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i 



SERMONS 



BY THE LATE 



REV. DAVID OSGOOD, D.D. 



MINISTER OP THE CHURCH IN MEDFORD. 




BOSTON : 
PUBLISHED BY CUMMINGS, HILLIARD, & CO. 



PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, 
By Hilliard fy Metcalf. 

1824. 






DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, to -wit : 

District Clerk's Office. 
BE IT REMEMBERED, that on the fifteenth day of May A. D. 1824, in the fovty- 
eighth year of the Independence of the United States of America, Cummings, Hilliard, 
& Co. of the said district, have deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof 
they claim as proprietors, in the words following, to ivit: 

" Sermons by the late Rev. David Osgood, D. D. Minister of the Church in Medford." 
In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled " An act for the 
encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors 
and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned ;" and also to an 
act, entitled w An act supplementary to an act, entitled * An act for the encouragement of 
learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors 
of such copies, during the times theiem mentioned ;' and extending the benefits thereof to. 
the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints." 

JOHN W. DAVIS, 
Clerk of the District of~Massachusetfs. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



Dr. Osgood was frequently urged by his friends to pub- 
lish a volume of his sermons, but could never be prevailed 
on to undertake the task of revising them for the press. 
He however left permission with his family to make a selec- 
tion if* they should be requested, and himself named several 
of those which he was willing should be printed. Since his 
decease, it having appeared to be the general wish of his 
friends to possess some more lasting memorial of his preach- 
ing than what their own recollections afforded, his family 
have consented to publish the following posthumous sermons. 
In selecting them, care has been taken to follow the direc- 
tions of the Author, who strictly forbade the publishing of any 
of those discourses which treated upon controversial topics, 
and named those which delineated the moral virtues. The 
discourse on the Institution of the Sabbath is the only one 
which was written for the press. It was composed when 
the Sabbath laws were revised by the General Court ; but 
its publication at that time was delayed by accidental 
circumstances, and at length finally relinquished. It now 
appears in this volume, prefaced by the advertisement which 
was originally designed to accompany it. The other ser- 
mons in this selection were among the more popular dis- 
courses of the Author, and will be recollected, not only by 



IV ADVERTISEMENT. 

his own parishioners, but by many individuals in the adja- 
cent towns. 

An exposition of the Scriptures of the Old Testament 
formed one of Dr. Osgood's weekly exercises for many 
years, and at the close of the volume a few of these compo- 
sitions have been added. 



CONTENTS, 



SERMON I. 



ON THE ATTRIBUTES OF GOD. 

Deuteronomy xxxii. 3. — Ascribe ye greatness unto our 

Page. 
God 11 

SERMON II. 

THE FOUNDATION STONE. 

Isaiah xxviii. 16. — Therefore thus saith the Lord God, Be- 
hold, I lay in Zion for a foundation a stone, a tried stone, 
a precious corner-stone, a sure foundation : he that believ- 
eth shall not make haste. . . . . . .24 

SERMON III. 

ON THE IMMUTABLE DISTINCTION BETWEEN GOOD AND EVIL. 

Isaiah v. 20. — Wo unto them that call evil good, and good 
evil ; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness ; 
that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter. . 37 

SERMON IV. 

ON THE INSTITUTION OF THE SABBATH. 

Genesis ii. 2, 3. — On the seventh day God ended his work 
which he had made ; and he rested on the seventh day 
from all his work which he had made. And God bless- 
ed the seventh day, and sanctified it : because in it he 
had rested from all his work, which God created and 
made. 63 

SERMON V. 

ON THE SUFFICIENCY OF THE EVIDENCE FOR A FUTURE STATE AF- 
FORDED BY SCRIPTURE. 

Luke xv i. 27 -31. — Then he said, I pray thee, therefore, 
father, that thou wouldest send him to my father's house : 
for I have h>e brethren : that he may testify unto them, 
lest they also come into this place of torment. Abraham 
saith unto him, They have Moses and the Prophets ; let 
them hear them. And he said, Nay, father Abraham ; 
but if one went unto them from the dead, they will re- 



VI CONTENTS. 

pent. And he said unto him, If they hear not Moses and 
the Prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one 
rose from the dead. 87 

\ SERMON VI. 

ON THE RIGHTEOUSNESS OF THE SCRIBES AND PHARISEES. 

Matthew v. 20. — Except your righteousness shall exceed the 
righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no 
case enter into the kingdom of heaven. . . .1 10 

SERMON VII. 

ON PRAYER. 

Acts ix. 1 1 . — And the Lord said unto him, Arise and go into 
the street which is called Straight, and inquire in the 
house of Judas for one called Saul of Tarsus: for, behold, 
he prayeth. ........ 125 

SERMON VIII. 

ON THE PROFESSION OF RELIGION. 

Romans x. 10. — For with the heart, man believeth unto 
righteousness ; and with the mouth confession is made 
unto salvation. . . . . . . .145 

SERMON IX. 



1 Corinthians xii. 27. — Now ye are the body of Christ, and 
members in particular. . . . . . 160 

SERMON X. 

ON HUMILITY. 

1 Peter v. 5. — God resisteth the proud ; and giveth grace to 
the humble 182 

SERMON XL 

ON CONTENTMENT. 

Philippians iv. 1 1 . — For I have learned, in whatsoever state 
I am, therewith to be content. . . . 19£ 

SERMON XII. 

ON CHARITY. 

1 Corinthians xiii. 4.— Charity envieth not. . » 220 



CONTENTS. Vll 



SERMON XIII. 

ON SELF-GOVERNMENT. 

Proverbs xvi. 32. — He that is slow to anger, is better than 
the mighty ; and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that 
taketh a city 233 

SERMON XIV. 

ON THE LOVE OF PLEASURE. 

1 Timothy v. 6.— But she that liveth in pleasure, is dead 
while she liveth. . . * . . . . 252 

SERMON XV. 

TO THE YOUNG. 

Luke ii. 52. — And Jesus increased in wisdom, and stature, 
and in favour with God and man 269 

SERMON XVI. 

TO THE AGED. 

2 Samuel xix. 34-37. — And Barzillai said unto the king, 
How long have I to live, that I should go up with the 
king unto Jerusalem ? I am this day fourscore years 
old ; and can I discern between good and evil ? can thy 
servant taste what I eat or what I drink ? can I hear 
any more the voice of singing-men and singing-women? 
Wherefore then should thy servant be yet a burden unto 
my Lord the king ? Thy servant will go a little way 
over J ordan with the king ; and why should the king 
recompense it with such a reward ? Let thy servant, I 
pray thee, turn back again, that I may die in mine own 
city, and be buried by the grave of my father and of my 
mother .288 

SERMON XVII. 

ON THE CHARACTER OF JOB. 

James v. 11. — Ye have heard of the patience of Job ; and 
have seen the end of the Lord. . ] . . 306 

SERMON XVIII. 

REASONING, THE CHARACTERISTIC OF ST. PAUL'S PREACHING. 

Acts xxiv. 25. — And as he reasoned of righteousness, tem- 
perance, and judgment to come, Felix trembled. . 326 



Till CONTENTS. 



SERMON XIX. 



ON THE SUPERIORITY OF MERCY TO SACRIFICE. 

Matthew xii. 7. — But if ye had known what this meaneth, I 
will have mercy a>id not sacrifice, ye would not have 
condemned the guiltless. 345 

SERMON XX. 

ON THE DUTY OF CELEBRATING THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

Luke xxii. 19. — 'This do in remembrance of me. . . 362 
SERMON XXI. 

THE WALK TO EMMAUS. 

Luke xxiv. 35. — And they told what things were done in 
the way, and how he was known of them in breaking of 
bread. . 377 

SERMON XXII. 

ON COMING TO CHRIST. 

John vi. 68. — Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to 
whom shall we go ? Thou hast the words of eternal 
life. 388 

SERMON XXIII. 

A THANKSGIVING SERMON. 

Genesis i. 31. — And God saw every thing that he had made, 
and, behold, it was very good. . - . . . 405 

SERMON XXIV. 

ON THE SAFETY OF A RIGHTEOUS COURSE. 

Proverbs xii. 28. — In the way of righteousness is life; and 
in the pathway thereof there is no death. . . 420 



EXPOSITIONS. 

I. 
ON JEPHTHAH'S VOW.— Judges xi. 435 

II. 
ON THE WITCH OF ENDOR.— 1 Samuel xxviii. 444 
III. 
ON PATRIOTISM.— Psalm cxxii. 461 



SERMONS. 






SERMON I. 



ATTRIBUTES OF GOD. 
DEUT. xxxii. 3. 

Ascribe ye greatness unto our God. 

These words are a part of that divine ode which 
the Legislator of Israel, at the command of God, 
wrote for the instruction and warning of the people. 
Nothing can be more grand and majestic than the 
exordium : 

Give ear, O ye heavens ! and I will speak ; 
And hear, O earth ! the words of my mouth. 

As though man had no ears, the appeal is here made 
to the mute creation. After comparing the doctrine 
to be dispensed to the effects of the falling rain and 
distilling dew, the poet adds, 

Because I will publish the name of the Lord ; 
Ascribe ye greatness unto our God. 

The subject of celebration being the perfections of 
Jehovah, the people are here invited to join in exalt- 



12 ATTRIBUTES OF GOD. 

ing bis name, and from the fulness of their devout and 
grateful hearts to acknowledge and adore his supreme 
and universal dominion. The possessive pronoun, 
" our God," marks the peculiar and appropriating 
sense in which Jehovah was the God of Israel, in 
consequence of the explicit covenant subsisting be- 
tween him and them. As Christians and the profess- 
ing people of God, there is now the same covenant 
relation subsisting between him and ourselves. To 
us therefore the exhortation applies, " Ascribe ye 
greatness unto our God." Such ascriptions should 
proceed from hearts deeply impressed with a sense of 
his inconceivable greatness and glory, and affect- 
ed, elevated, and warmed with the contemplation of 
him. We can hardly fail of being thus affected, if 
we think of his greatness in his being, perfections, 
and works. 

I. In his being, or in its manner or duration, to 
whom may he be compared ? The disparity be- 
tween him and all other beings is infinite. They, as 
creatures, are the mere effects of his power. To 
suppose that they never might have been, or may 
cease to be, involves no contradiction. Once in- 
deed they were not ; and they now possess but a 
derived, dependent being, sustained solely by his 
power. But with respect to him, it is the peculiar 
and exclusive privilege of his nature to be self-existent 
and independent. The hypothesis of his not being, 
or ceasing to be, or being different from what he is, 
can, on no principle of reason, be admitted. In every 



ATTRIBUTES OF GOD. 13 

idea of him are included his eternity, his necessary 
self-existence, without beginning and without end. 
In thinking of other beings, we assign them an origin. 
We know ourselves to be but of yesterday, and that 
a few years since we were not. The earth itself was 
once without form and void ; neither man nor angel 
existed. The universe had a beginning. To the 
fictitious deities of the heathen their worshippers ad- 
mitted an origin ; but with respect to the true God no 
supposition can be more absurd and contradictory. 
If you send your thoughts back into the dark regions 
of an eternity past, if you give imagination scope in 
figuring to itself millions and millions of ages prior 
to the birth of creation ; in this attempt you make 
no approach towards the origin of that Being who 
is without beginning. If you look forward, and 
give fancy the same scope in traversing the regions 
of futurity ; if you suppose all the revolutions pre- 
dicted by prophecy to have passed, and, in addition 
to these, as many myriads of ages as there are parti- 
cles of matter in the material system ; still, your cal- 
culations fail to increase the duration of God. No 
finite number of ages can make any addition to his 
years. It cannot be said that he has existed longer 
now, than he had when he created the world. For 
" one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and 
a thousand v ears as one day." "Behold! God is 
great, and we know him not." His days are not as 
the days of man, "neither can the number of his 
years be searched out." Before the day was, be- 



14 ATTRIBUTES OF GOD. 

fore the mountains were brought forth, or he had 
formed the earth or the world, even from everlasting 
to everlasting he is God. Into what embarrass- 
ment and confusion do our thoughts run, while at- 
tempting thus to contemplate him ! How is our 
understanding overwhelmed in its efforts to conceive 
of his infinity ! 

II. His greatness is equally incomprehensible in 
all and each of his perfections. Other beings are 
circumscribed in some definite place. No creature 
can occupy two different and distant places at the 
same time. Within what narrow limits are we our- 
selves confined ! This earth itself, though it con- 
tains all the nations of men, with innumerable other 
creatures, affording room amply sufficient for all, is 
yet but a speck or a point, compared with the im- 
mense spaces of the universe, always filled with the 
divine presence. God is neither included under any 
limits, nor excluded from any place or point in any 
direction through unbounded extension. "The 
heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain 
him." " Do not I fill heaven and earth ? saith the 
Lord." In humble adoration of his omnipresence, 
the Psalmist exclaims, " Whither shall I go from thy 
spirit ? or whither shall I flee from thy presence ? If 
I asceud up into heaven, thou art there. If I make 
my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the 
wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost 
parts of the sea ; even there shall thy hand lead me, 
and thy right hand hold me." 



ATTRIBUTES OF GOD. 15 

As he is every where present, so he has all pow- 
er. "Once have we heard this, yea twice, that 
power belongeth unto God." To his creatures he 
has imparted a degree of power sufficient for certain 
purposes pertaining to their accommodation and 
means of subsistence. Some little things can be 
done by them ; but with him all things are possible, 
and nothing is too hard for him. Whatsoever 
the Lord pleaseth, that doth he in heaven and in 
earth, in the seas and in all deep places, working 
all things after the counsel of his own will. 

This will is guided by an understanding strictly 
infinite, comprehending all things and events at the 
same instant. Whatever has been, is, or shall be, is 
always present to his view. Nothing is hidden from 
him or escapes his notice. He sees into all hearts, 
and discerns the most secret thoughts and purposes in 
every human mind, — all things being naked and open 
to his inspection. From everlasting he has beheld 
the whole chain of events with all their relations 
and intermediate links, from the beginning of time 
through the extent of unbounded futurity. From 
this perfect knowledge results his unerring and con- 
summate wisdom. " He hath established the world 
by his wisdom, and stretched out the heavens by his 
discretion." " Manifold are his works, and in wis- 
dom hath he made them all." Whatever portion of 
knowledge and wisdom is exercised by creatures, is 
derived from him. It cometh down from the 
Father of lights, who giveth liberally to them who 
ask, and rightly improve his gifts. 



16 ATTRIBUTES OP GOD. 

His goodness is as great and unlimited as his 
other perfections. It is the chief glory of his 
nature and character. To the petition of Moses, " I 
beseech thee shew me thy glory," he graciously 
answers, " I will make all my goodness pass before 
thee," — intimating this to be his glory. Compared 
with God, the best of finite beings are not worthy 
to be called good. Our Saviour tells us, u that there 
is none good but one, and that is God." His good- 
ness is absolute, unmixed, underived, independent, 
and unbounded. It overflows the whole creation, 
and supplies the streams which convey happiness to 
the universe of creatures. 

With his goodness as a moral perfection, are 
inseparably connected his truth and faithfulness. 
He is a God of truth; and it is not possible for him 
to alter the thing that is gone out of his lips. His 
word is settled in the heavens, and his faithfulness 
is unto all generations. Heaven and earth shall 
sooner pass away, than a word of his shall fall to 
the ground. In his other moral perfections, he is 
equally unchangeable and unrivalled. There are 
none holy as the Lord. He is also a just God, lov- 
ing righteousness and hating iniquity, and who will 
by no means clear the guilty. At the same time his 
mercy is higher than the heavens, and his compass- 
ions fail not. 

III. But as he is great in all the attributes of his 
nature and character ; so is he in his works, both 
of creation and providence. In these, the invisible 



ATTRIBUTES OF GOD. 17 

things of him, even his eternal power, wisdom, and 
goodness, are manifested. If we consider the things 
which he has made either in their magnitude, their 
extent, their number, their variety, their beauty, 
their usefulness, or their manner of production, — in 
each of these respects, they lead us to the most 
admiring and adoring apprehensions of his unsearch- 
able greatness and glory. In the Gospel we find the 
disciples of our Saviour admiring the grandeur and 
workmanship of the temple at Jerusalem. In 
their superb palaces, temples, towers, and other 
edifices, the kings of the earth have been ambi- 
tious of making a display of their greatness and 
magnificence. But what are all human structures, 
even those called the wonders of the world, in com- 
parison with the fabrick of the universe ? What are 
all other architects to Him who buildeth his stories 
in the heavens ? If we consider the creation as it 
appears" to the vulgar eye, or according to the plain 
and simple account of it given in Scripture ; if we 
think of God as laying the foundations of the earth, 
hanging it upon nothing, bringing this beautiful and 
well furnished world into being, preparing the bot- 
tomless abyss as a prison for his enemies ; erecting 
the third heaven as the presence chamber of the 
great King, those beatific mansions forming the 
promised seats of the blessed ; and as hanging out 
in the firmament below, the heavenly luminaries, 
the sun, moon, and stars — those splendid symbols 
of uncreated glory and magnificence, — what august 
3 



18 ATTRIBUTES OF GOD. 

ideas of the Author rush upon and overwhelm our 
understandings ! 

Views still more extended are held forth by the 
light of philosophy. The learned profess, with a de- 
gree of accuracy, to ascertain the circumference and 
diameter of the earth, to calculate its bulk, and to 
assure us that though it be so prodigious, there are 
other planets belonging to the solar system still great- 
er ; that the sun itself, the source of all their light 
and heat, is of a magnitude so vast, that in com- 
parison with it, this earth is but a mere spot — that 
besides his regular planets, there are many other 
bodies falling within the compass of his attraction, 
called comets, consisting of huge masses of matter, 
far surpassing the bulk of this earth — that beyond 
all these, in the trackless fields of ether, or rather in 
the immensity of space, are what are called the fixed 
stars, glistening through all parts of the heavenly 
canopy, yet so inconceivably distant as to have no 
sensible connexion with our solar system. As they 
appear to shine by their own native light, it has 
been conjectured that they may all be so many suns, 
each, like ours, encircled by its system of planets, or 
worlds ; and all these inhabited by creatures whose 
natures and capacities may be infinitely diversified, 
filling up numberless gradations in the scale of 
created existence. We are lost and swallowed up 
in such contemplations. " Who, by searching, can 
find out God," or ascertain the number or extent of 
his works, or announce to us their limits ? So far 



ATTRIBUTES OF GOD. 19 

as we are able to survey them, they are as beautiful 
and useful, as they are grand and stupendous ; bear- 
ing upon them order and uniformity of design amidst 
the most complicated variety. As adapted to the 
enjoyment of sensitive beings, and to enlarge and 
improve the faculties of rational, intelligent natures, 
we are constrained to view them as so many streams 
of good, emanating from the infinite, inexhaustible 
fountain. Well may we ascribe greatness to their 
author ! What works, or whose, may be compared 
with his? 

In constructing the dwellings of man, the united 
skill and strength of numbers are requisite ; but God 
neither had nor needed assistance in rearing the fab- 
rick of nature. Men must have materials, instru- 
ments, and engines, or they cannot build ; but if 
God made use of pre-existent materials in forming 
the world, they were such as he himself had created. 
In every case, his word, let it be, was sufficient for 
the instantaneous production. Weil might the morn- 
ing stars sing and shout for joy, when they beheld 
the frame of nature rising, the heavens expanding, 
and this visible universe assuming order and form. 

In contemplating his works of providence, as well 
as those of creation, we may find equal reason for 
ascribing greatness to our God. As the universe 
was made by his power, so it is sustained and gov- 
erned by his providence. Wherever he has given 
existence to creatures, there the continued energy 
of his providence upholds their being and provides 



20 ATTRIBUTES OF GOD. 

for them. This energy is spread through the whole 
creation to a minuteness which our thoughts cannot 
pursue, and to an universality that admits of no 
exemption. Throughout creation, in the outlying 
regions of the universe as well as at the centre of 
the earth, the immediate action of his providence 
binds together the parts and particles of matter, con- 
stitutes their solidity, maintains the laws of motion, 
and regulates every movement; pervading, sur- 
rounding, and governing the whole, every change 
and event, from the greatest to the most minute, even 
to the deciding upon the life of a sparrow, and 
adjusting the number of hairs on every head. It 
is by the unremitting agency of his providence that 
the several parts and members of our bodies are 
held together, that our organs of sense perform their 
functions, that the blood flows in our veins, and the 
breath heaves our lungs. It is in him that we live, 
and move, and breathe, and have our being. 

As in the natural, so in the moral world, he 
superintends whatever takes place, doing his pleasure 
among the armies of heaven above, and among the 
inhabitants of the earth below. The affairs of all 
nations, families, and of each individual, are the ob- 
jects of his care. To none of all these does any evil 
happen, or any good accrue, without his appointment. 
The rectitude of his administration, the justice and 
mercy of his character, are displayed in rendering 
to men according to their works, not perfectly in- 
deed or in every instance during this probationary 



ATTRIBUTES'OF GOD. 21 

state, but so far as ought to give us ample assur- 
ance of its completion hereafter. His present works 
of terror and compassion in his judgments upon 
the wicked, and his deliverances to the righteous, are 
certain pledges of a future full retribution to all and 
every one. This inference is forced upon us by 
the general history of his dispensations towards 
mankind from the earliest ages ; in his saving 
Noah and his family, while he brought a flood of 
waters on the world of the ungodly ; in rescuing 
righteous Lot from the flames which consumed the 
sinners of Sodom ; in delivering his ancient Israel 
from the bondage of Egypt, and in preserving them 
from the plagues inflicted on their oppressors ; and 
in all the wonders which attended them before and 
after their settlement in Canaan, through the lapse 
of a long course of ages, till they were rejected 
from being his people. 

Wonders also both of judgment and of mercy 
have attended the planting, increase, and preser- 
vation of the christian church amidst the continual 
opposition of earth and hell. Towards no part of 
this church, in modern times, have the dispensa- 
tions of Providence been more illustrious and signal, 
perhaps, than to that planted in these New England 
states. Our ears have heard and our fathers have 
told us what great things were done for them in 
their day.* Since we ourselves have been upon the 
stage, scenes have opened and revolutions taken 

♦This sermon was preached on the day of the general Thanksgiving for 
Peace, April 13th, 1815. 



22 ATTRIBUTES OF GOD. 

place, before unparalleled in the annals of time. Our 
minds have been roused by their astonishing na- 
ture, and kept in constant agitation by their quick 
succession. After viewing them for a while at a 
distance, w T e found ourselves suddenly drawn into 
the current, and borne along with an alarming 
rapidity towards hopeless ruin. Our perplexities, 
fears, and dangers increased every moment. But at 
a period when the prospect was most gloomy and 
threatening, when we seemed on the verge of des- 
truction, and no means of safety were within our 
reach, — the tempest ceased, the clouds broke and 
dispersed, and our horizon became clear and tran- 
quil. "Ascribe ye greatness to our God." Him 
the winds and the waves obey. He having said, 
" peace, be still," we are surprised at the sudden 
and great calm, — we are most agreeably surprised 
that we hear no longer the sound of the trumpet and 
the dire alarm of war. 

In history we read of Alexander, of Pompey, of 
Charlemagne, of Lewis the Fourteenth, and of a 
few others, who, from the noise and bustle which 
they made in the world, their victories and tri- 
umphs over their fellow- worms, were distinguished 
by the epithet of great added to their names. But 
what could be the greatness of vanishing phantoms, 
beings themselves shadows, and shadows their 
enterprises and achievements ? At most and at 
best they were but instruments in the hand of 
Him, whose kingdom ruleth over all ; and in their 



ATTRIBUTES OF GOD. 23 

exploits, whatever they might have been, they 
effected nothing more than his hand and his counsel 
had before determined to be done. In nothing 
can his rational creatures become truly great, but 
by endeavours to imitate his moral perfections, his 
holiness, truth, and justice, his mercy and goodness. 
By forming ourselves to a resemblance of him in 
these respects, we may become his adopted children, 
and in this relation be regarded as heirs of God, 
and joint heirs with his son Christ Jesus to honour 
and immortality. 



SERMON II. 



FOUNDATION STONE. 



ISAIAH xxviii. 16. 



Therefore thus saith the Lord God, Behold, I lay in 
Zion for a foundation a stone, a tried stone, a 
precious corner-stone, a sure foundation : he 
that believeth shall not make haste. 

In this figurative language, the evangelical 
prophet sets forth the Messiah as the only sure 
foundation of hope for apostate men. That the 
words are thus to be understood, is put beyond a 
doubt by their being so interpreted by the writers 
of the New Testament. They are quoted both by 
St. Peter and St. Paul, and expressly applied to 
Christ. Isaiah opposes this only sure and safe 
foundation to that groundless confidence, that refuge 
of lies, under which the degenerate Israelites were 
accustomed to shelter themselves. In the context, 
the judgments of God, like a tempest of hail, or an 
overflowing flood, are represented as ready to burst 
upon this sinful people. They, however, instead of 
being alarmed at the threatened danger, were as se- 



FOUNDATION STONE. 25 

cure and unconcerned as though they had made a 
covenant whh death not to approach them, and 
were at an agreement with hell, or the grave, that 
it should not swallow them up. Whatever was 
the ground of this their confidence, it is pronounc- 
ed by the prophet to be fallacious. Therefore, or in 
contradistinction to all the schemes of worldly wis- 
dom and policy, the text declares, in God's name, 
that he is about to lay a stable foundation for the 
confidence of true believers, — a foundation with every 
property necessary to sustain the spiritual temple of 
Jehovah, the edifice of his church. In allusion to 
those famous structures of antiquity, which were 
once the wonder of the world, whose foundations 
were laid amidst the acclamations of a crowd of 
admiring spectators ; or, perhaps, in allusion to the 
foundation of nature itself, when the morning stars 
sang together and all the sons of God shouted for 
joy ; the attention of all contemplative beings, 
whether on earth or in heaven, is summoned to the 
bringing forth of the great corner-stone of God's 
living temple, the church. " Thus saith the Lord 
God, Behold, I lay in Zion for a foundation." 

When we consider, my brethren, who and what 
we are, our present situation, the changes which 
await us, the destination of our being* and the 
prospects before us as probationers for eternity, we 
cannot but feel the importance of looking out for 
some sure foundation on which to build our happi- 
ness. What trials are in reserve for us personally, 
4 



26 FOUNDATION STONE. 

as individuals, we know not. Losses, bereavements, 
sicknesses, and manifold calamities, may form the 
scenes through which we have yet to pass. At all 
events, the catastrophe of death awaits each one of 
us ; and what a building must that be which the 
king of terrors shall not demolish ! " Besides, when 
all the purposes of divine love, in our world, shall 
be accomplished, an almighty tempest of divine 
indignation shall break upon it, and sweep away all 
that it contains, blending cities, kingdoms, plains 
and mountains, seas and dry land, kings and beg- 
gars, in one vas heap of promiscuous ruin." Our 
happiness must be built upon a foundation that 
will stand the shock of that tremendous day ; 
that will remain unmoved when the foundations 
of nature shall be shaken and give way ; that will 
afford us a firm support, while the earth under our 
feet, and the heavens over us, shall be passing away 
with a great noise. Where, it is natural most anx- 
iously to inquire, shall we find such a basis for our 
hopes ? Where shall we find that rock, on which 
we may stand secure amidst the convulsions of a 
falling world ? The text directs our eyes to the 
only sure, solid, immoveable, everlasting rock, on 
which we may build, safely build, our eternal all. 
The voice of God himself calls our attention to 
this foundation. " Thus saith the Lord God, Be- 
hold." Multitudes of our degenerate race, while 
floating along on the surface of time towards the 
vast ocean of eternity, are accustomed, in a manner 



FOUNDATION STONE. 27 

the most heedless, to sport themselves by the way, 
wholly unapprehensive of what is before them. 
Some of the more considerate, full of themselves, 
think their own reason sufficient to lay a foundation, 
on which to build for an hereafter. Much the great- 
er part spend their time and thoughts about the ob- 
jects of sense. All their care and concern are 
taken up in providing for the body, to the utter ne- 
glect of the soul. In compassion to his perishing 
creatures, a merciful God calls, calls with a voice 
from heaven, to rouse them from this lethargy, from 
these fatal slumbers, now in season to attend to the 
provision which he has made, the foundation which 
he has laid for their recovery and salvation. To 
each of us he says, in the text, Behold the rock 
that will afford you a firm support amidst all those 
convulsions which will whelm in ruin every struc- 
ture not raised upon this foundation. 

The mere moralist is here shown a surer basis 
for hope than his own fancied goodness. Works in 
themselves really good are necessary to complete and 
adorn the superstructure ; but when laid at the bot- 
tom as the foundation, you build upon the yielding 
sand. This was the mistake of the Jewish builders 
of old, when they refused the stone appointed by 
God to be the head of the corner. How great 
was their mistake ! How fatal their consequent ruin ! 

Let scorning infidels remember, that, if they 
continue to set at nought this only foundation stone, 
the day will come when all the schemes of their own 



28 FOUNDATION STONE. 

devising will be found but a refuge of lies ; and 
what they now slight, as a stone of stumbling and 
rock of offence, will return upon them with a 
weight which will grind them to powder. 

Behold, ye men of the world, all whose endeav- 
ours are exerted in building up an earthly felicity ; 
what will become of your labours, when that vapour, 
your life, shall vanish ? Of what profit will the gain 
of the whole world be, when your souls shall be 
lost ? Ye are now called to turn your eyes to a 
foundation for better and greater expectations, for 
riches more durable, honours more exalted, pleasures 
more sublime, than can result from any worldly 
success. 

Let the crowd of inconsiderate, thoughtless 
beings, who seem to have no settled plan either for 
this world or the next, who are sauntering away 
their existence, who stand all the day idle, — let 
them attend to what is now set before them, a foun- 
dation upon which their labour shall not be in vain, 
upon which they may build, successfully build for 
immortality. 

Behold, ye awakened, inquiring sinners, who 
are pricked in your hearts, who see your guilt and 
your danger, and are ready to sink under the appre- 
hension of the gathering tempest ; behold, with ad- 
miration and joy, this rock upon which ye may cast 
yourselves, venture your souls, and be safe for eterni- 
ty. To encourage you in placing your dependence 
upon this foundation, the text assures you that it is 



FOUNDATION STONE. 29 

laid by God himself. Were it a mere human device, 
it might not be worthy of your notice. The schemes 
of happiness, devised by human wisdom and phi- 
losophy, are at best slight and superficial. All 
human foundations are sandy and fallacious ; but 
may you not rely upon that which is laid in the 
consummate wisdom and infinite power of God ? 
When his creature man apostatized, he looked and 
saw that there was none to help ; then his own 
arm brought salvation — he laid help upon one who is 
mighty. He so loved the world, that he sent his, 
only begotten Son, to seek and to save that which 
was lost. Jesus Christ coming into the world, as- 
suming our nature as the second man, the second 
head of the human family ; fulfilling all righteous- 
ness on our behalf, and then, dying as our substitute 
the death incurred by the first man, is the founda- 
tion, the only foundation for our recovery and salva- 
tion. Upon this foundation, all believers, from the 
beginning to the end of the world, build their hopes 
— upon this stands the whole church, and not one 
of Adam's posterity ever was or can be saved upon 
any other foundation. 

When God was about to bring forth this foun- 
dation stone, he called for the attention of the 
children of men. " Behold, I lay for a foundation 
in Zion ;" — Zion, a word metaphorically denoting 
the church of God. As Christ is the rock on which 
the church is founded, it is plain, that if we would 
find and build upon this foundation, we must be- 



30 FOUNDATION STONE. 

long to his church, we must become lively stones 
in this temple. •> If we belong not to this structure, 
if we be not parts of this sacred building, we can- 
not rest upon its foundation. Christ will profit us 
nothing. Ought not this to be seriously considered 
by those among us who seem to regard it as a mat- 
ter of indifference, whether they be members of the 
church of Christ or not. Many indeed, by an 
outward profession, pass at present for members, 
who will hereafter be found as a mere appendage 
or scaffolding of the spiritual edifice, and when the 
building is finished, be removed as rubbish, useless 
incumbrances. But when judgment shall thus begin 
at the house of God ; when mere nominal profes- 
sors shall be cast ofT; what- must become of those 
who have no connexion with this sacred temple, who 
neither are, nor appear to be of the church of Christ ? 
Of what avail can the foundation be to those who 
build not upon it ? 

As an encouragement to one and all here to 
found their hopes, the excellent properties of this 
foundation are particularized — " a stone, a tried 
stone, a precious corner-stone, a sure foundation.'' 
What a variety of words are here accumulated, to 
express the solidity, strength, durableness, and per- 
fection of this foundation ! A stone, of all materials 
the most solid and durable ; not to be impaired 
or worn away by ail-consuming time. Where now 
are the noble structures of antiquity, the grand impe- 
rial cities, the famous temples and lofty towers, so 



FOUNDATION STONE. 31 

celebrated in history ? They have long since been 
heaps of rubbish ; their very foundations, scattered 
fragments ; while the rock of ages is always the 
same, immutable and immoveable through the ages 
both of time and eternity. The temple of God, 
that spiritual building, his church, founded upon 
this rock, has survived amidst all the vicissitudes of 
past time. It still stands firm and glorious as ever, 
and has reared its towering spires above the stars. 
It hath bidden defiance to all the storms and tem- 
pests which have beaten against it. No inunda- 
tions have overflown it. No convulsions have 
shaken its foundation. The latter remains precise- 
ly the same now that it was when Adam, Enoch, 
Noah, Abraham, and the other patriarchs built their 
faith and their hope upon it. Still the spacious fab- 
rick is rising, and new stones are daily added ; while 
the foundation is sufficiently strong to bear all the 
past and all future additions to the end of time, and 
then to support the whole through all eternity. 
A tried stone, says the prophet. In various res- 
pects Christ has been tried by God and his crea- 
tures, by his friends, and by his enemies. From 
the beginning he was intimately known, approved, 
and chosen by God, for the purpose of this founda- 
tion. In the days of his -flesh, from his first ap- 
pearance on earth, from his birth in a stable, to his 
exit on the cross, his whole life was a constant series 
of the severest trials, manifesting his perfect submis- 
sion to God, and his unconquerable love to men, 



32 FOUNDATION STONE. 

even to enemies ; rendering them both illustrious 
and splendid as gold from the furnace. In another 
respect he has been tried, tried as a Saviour, by 
multitudes of perishing sinners, whose happy expe- 
rience attests the excellence of the foundation upon 
which they have built their hope. All believers 
through every past age have experienced his ability 
and willingness to save. Thousands and thousands 
of immortal souls, once the captives of Satan, led in 
chains by him towards the bottomless gulf, by lay- 
ing hold on this rock have escaped perdition. The 
penitent thief, while expiring on the cross, who had 
no opportunity to build, nor for any thing more 
than just to cast his departing soul upon this foun- 
dation, by this single effort found himself safe for 
eternity. 

But again, he is called a precious corner-stone, 
importing his place in the temple of God, and the 
unity, strength, and beauty which he communicates 
to the whole structure. He is the centre of union 
in this spiritual building, incorporating Jews and 
Gentiles, believers of all nations and throughout all 
ages, in one vast and happy society. The materials 
of this house of God consist of all nations, kind- 
reds, and tongues ; Jews and Greeks, Barbarians and 
Scythians, bond and free, honourable and dishonour- 
able, rich and poor. All these Christ unites and 
binds to himself and to one another, in the bonds 
of fraternal affection ; inspiring them with the same 
spirit, love, faith, and hope. By these ties he links 



FOUNDATION STONE. 33 

them to each other during the period of their disper- 
sion and pilgrimage here on earth, and will finally 
bring them to meet together and dwell forever in 
one blessed communion in heaven. " He is our 
peace," says the Apostle, " who hath made both one 
(that is, Jews and Gentiles), and hath broken 
down the middle wall of partition between us ;" that 
so all the different parts of his church might form 
but one grand structure, u built upon the founda- 
tion of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ him- 
self being the chief corner-stone ; in whom all 
the building, fitly framed together, groweth unto an 
holy temple in the Lord." 

A sure foundation, says the Prophet. In the 
Hebrew, a foundation, a foundation. " There 
is," says the animated Hervey, " a fine spirit of ve- 
hemence in the sentence thus understood ; it speaks 
the language of agreeable surprise and exultation, 
and expresses an important discovery. That which 
mankind infinitely want; that which multitudes 
seek and find not ; — it is here ! it is here ! This, 
this is the foundation for their pardon, their peace, 
their eternal felicity !" 

My hearers, will ye not be persuaded to build 
upon this foundation? Sinners, will ye not cast 
yourselves upon this rock ? Already ye are sink- 
ing under guilt and condemnation. Here is the 
only rock upon which ye can be safe. " Other 
foundation," says the Apostle, " can no man lay, 
than that already laid, which is Jesus Christ." Ye 
5 



34 FOUNDATION STONE. 

have heard of the ample sufficiency and excellence 
of this ; how to build upon it, you are directed in 
the text ; " he that believeth," clearly teaching that 
you must build by faith, by believing what the Scrip- 
ture reveals concerning Christ as a foundation, 
and by resting upon him the eternal interests of 
your souls. Faith is the exercise of the heart, as 
well as of the understanding. " With the heart man 
believeth unto righteousness." Were you plunged 
in the ocean, and there struggling for life amidst 
the buffeting waves, the rock within your reach 
could be no support till you cast yourselves upon it. 
Sinking, perishing sinners hear of Christ as a foun- 
dation. He is nigh to them in his word and in his 
ordinances, while they, blind to their perilous con- 
dition, make no efforts to get upon this rock. Like 
drowning men bereft of reason, they lay hold on 
every twig, on every straw, still neglecting the rock. 
Faith implies trust in Christ and reliance upon him 
for safety ; but ye cannot thus trust in him while ye 
remain insensible of your danger. Ye must feel 
yourselves sinking under the burden of your sins, 
and under this feeling apply to Christ, crying with 
sinking Peter, " Help, Lord, we perish." Ye must 
lay hold on him as your only support, letting go 
all other confidences, and clinging to him as your 
only hope. Your faith in him must result at once 
from the last necessity and the freest choice ; from 
a deep conviction of your infinite need of him, and 
from a well-pleasedness with his character and 



FOUNDATION STONE. 35 

offices. It must also have a transforming influ- 
ence upon your hearts and lives, rendering you 
new creatures. If your faith be evangelical, ye will 
yourselves become lively stones, and partake of the 
excellencies and splendours of that precious stone 
upon which ye are built. The foundation commu- 
nicates, not only support and strength, but beauty 
and excellence to the whole structure and to all its 
parts. A degree of likeness to Christ, and some- 
thing of his temper, are found in the character of all 
and each of his members. 

The last words in the text set forth the advan- 
tages resulting to those who are thus built upon 
this sure foundation : " he that believeth," says 
the Prophet, " shall not make haste," — " shall not be 
ashamed or confounded," says the Apostle. Both 
ideas are included in its import. In the former 
sense, it marks the confused hurry, the disorder and 
perturbation into which men are thrown by any 
sudden consternation. In the latter sense, it express- 
es the regret, chagrin, and confusion, which over- 
whelm the mind on the failure of its confidence, and 
the disappointment of its hopes. From all these 
evils, true believers in Christ are happily freed. 
Let come what may, amidst all vicissitudes, they 
are secure, and may in patience possess their souls. 
Knowing in whom they have believed, upon whom 
they have placed their dependence, what their foun- 
dation is ; they shall feel themselves safe upon this 
rock, whatever storms may blow, whatever convul- 



36 FOUNDATION STONE. 

sions may shake the world. In the last extremi- 
ty, in the shipwreck of nature, when the earthly 
house of their tabernacle shall be dissolved, they 
will know that they have a building of God on 
Christ as the foundation. Sustained by this hope, 
they will be calm and serene, not only when bid* 
ding adieu to the world, but even when beholding 
the prognostics of a dissolving world. When the 
heavens and the earth shall pass away, they will 
be able to look for a new heaven and a new earth, 
in which dwelleth righteousness. 

Come then, ye weary and heavy laden, cast 
yourselves upon this foundation, and ye shall find 
rest to your souls, — a support for your hope when 
all earthly hopes shall fail and give way. Ye shall 
be confident at death, confident at the resurrec- 
tion of the just, and confident at the general judg- 
ment. When others shall fly in wild haste to the 
dens and to the caves of the earth, and shall 
shriek to the rocks and to the mountains for shelter, 
" ye shall not make haste, nor be ashamed," but 
look for the second coming of the Son of man as a 
blessed hope, a glorious appearance, the day of your 
finished redemption. 



SERMON III. 



DISTINCTION OP GOOD AND EVIL'. 



ISAIAH v. 20. 

Wo unto them that call evil good, and good evil ; that 
put darkness for light, and light for darkness ; 
that put hitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter. 

These words, with the preceding and subsequent 
context, charge God's ancient people with the want 
of that righteousness which alone exalteth a nation, 
and with the practice of those sins and vices, which 
fail not, sooner or later, to bring reproach and ruin 
upon any people. They are represented as cove- 
tous and rapacious, intemperate, sensual, and luxu- 
rious ; profligate and abandoned in their manners ; 
atheistical and licentious in their principles. Eager 
and impetuous in the gratification of their lusts, 
" they drew iniquity with cords of vanity." By idle 
pretexts and sophistical arguments, they encouraged 
and promoted the practice of vice — drawing it along 
like a plough, by keeping it in perpetual action. 
Fixed in these evil habits, they bade defiance to the 
judgments of Heaven, and despised all the warnings 



38 DISTINCTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 

and threatenings of the Almighty. In answer to the 
denunciations of the prophets, they are described as 
saying in scorn and ridicule, " let him make speed, 
and hasten his work, that we may see it ; and let 
the counsel of the Holy One of Israel draw nigh and 
come, that we may know it." 

With this contempt of God and religion, they at 
length degenerated into such stupidity and wicked- 
ness, as to lose all sense of the distinction between 
moral good and evil. Though, to the eye of reason, 
the difference be as manifest as that between light 
and darkness, or as bitter and sweet is to the taste ; 
yet, by abandoning themselves to all manner of vice, 
and the most criminal excesses, many of the Jews 
destroyed their moral sense, and became so stupid 
and brutish as to confound the distinctions between 
virtue and vice. In this stage of their degeneracy, 
they became advocates for wickedness, and sanctifi- 
ed their vices by giving them the name of virtues. 
This brought upon them the denunciation in the 
text—" Wo unto them that call evil good, and good 
evil ; that put darkness for light, and light for dark- 
ness ; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter." 

In illustrating this passage of Scripture, it is 
proposed to remark, 

First, Upon the proneness of sinful men to con- 
found the distinction betwixt moral good and evil, 
and to practise the latter under the name of the 
former. 



DISTINCTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 39 

Second, To inquire whence this comes to pass, 
or the causes of it. 

Third, Show that notwithstanding they are so 
often confounded in the opinions and practice of 
men, there is yet a real, essential, and immutable 
difference between them ; and then 

Fourth, That God in the administration of his 
moral government over mankind, will ultimately 
support this distinction, and of course bring misery 
and ruin upon all who obstinately persist in disre- 
garding it. I am in the 

First place, To remark upon the proneness of 
sinful men to confound the distinction betwixt moral 
good and evil, and to practise the latter under the 
name of the former. The character especially re- 
ferred to in the text, is that of the most abandoned 
sinners, who by a continued course of profligacy and 
guilt, have at length become shameless in vice, and 
lost to all sense and feeling of moral propriety. 
These, and these only, are the men who professedly 
confound good and evil, and disclaim in general the 
distinction between them. In the days of Isaiah, 
such characters abounded at Jerusalem. And 
though in some places and at some times they are 
more numerous than at others, yet through all ages 
and in all nations, there is a greater or less propor- 
tion of these licentious profligates. You may almost 
every where find some unprincipled people who have 
no fixed ideas of the nature of virtue and vice, and 
are accustomed to call every thing good or evil. 



40 DISTINCTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 

according as it happens to favour or thwart their 
predominant inclinations. 

But besides those who have thus sunk themselves 
to the last degree of degeneracy and corruption 
— such is the general frailty or depravity of human 
nature, that if we look abroad in the world, or attend 
to what history has recorded of the manners and opin- 
ions of men, — we shall find that there are scarcely 
any who do not, in some instances, call evil good, 
and good evil. Admitting that justice, truth, fideli- 
ty, and gratitude are approved and commended ; and 
that their opposites, fraud, falsehood, treachery, and 
ingratitude are censured and condemned by the gen- 
eral suffrage of mankind ; yet when these great and 
cardinal virtues and vices are carried forth into 
particular instances, and placed in circumstances 
favourable or unfavourable to the wishes and 
pursuits of individuals, there are few who do 
not in their practice confound them, and in their 
reasoning attempt to excuse and justify them- 
selves by putting darkness for light, and light for 
darkness. 

Even they who are reputed good men, are some- 
times guilty of strange mistakes in their dealings with 
others. We are often astonished at the deviations 
from rectitude which we find in our neighbours, even 
while they themselves perhaps are wholly insensible 
of them. And would we be as severe in judging 
ourselves, we should probably find reason to exclaim, 
" who of us can understand his errors ?" At the time 



DISTINCTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 41 

we act, we think that we are right ; but when pas- 
sion has subsided, or when we are no longer influ- 
enced by interest or prejudice, we may then discern 
the unfitness of what we have done or what we have 
thought and said, and see that we have put darkness 
for light. But I proceed, 

Secondly, To inquire whence it comes to pass 
that men are so prone to confound good and -evil, 
or what are the causes of it. To account for this 
may seem the more difficult, when it is considered 
with what accuracy we distinguish between natural 
good and evil, and those things which are grateful 
and ungrateful to our senses. Light and darkness, 
bitter and sweet, are never confounded. Neither 
our sight nor taste ever mistakes the one for the other. 
The feelings of every man enable him to distinguish 
between sickness and health, pleasure and pain, 
riches and poverty, honour and disgrace. These 
things are never confounded in our desires and pur- 
suits. It might be expected that creatures endowed 
with reason and the moral sense, would judge as 
infallibly with respect to moral qualities. But here, 
alas! our mistakes are numberless. Various cir- 
cumstances conspire to delude and mislead us. Our 
senses soon arrive at maturity, and we are early in 
a capacity to judge of their objects. But the pro- 
gress of reason is slow, and many years elapse before 
we attain to accurate or enlarged ideas of moral 
qualities. The things pleasing or offensive to our 
senses are immediately discerned ; but a train of 
6 



42 DISTINCTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 

reasoning is often requisite in order to a just decis- 
ion in morals. The effects of natural good and evil 
are usually quick and speedy, but those of virtue 
and vice are frequently remote and distant. This 
circumstance, together with the weakness of reason, 
greatly contributes to our delusion. 

But a yet more powerful cause are our irregular 
and depraved propensities. In consequence of the 
original apostacy, our inclinations have received a 
strong bias to evil. They lean upon the wrong side 
in opposition to the dictates of reason and conscience. 
These latter, which were designed to be ruling 
faculties in man, are so debilitated by sin, as fre- 
quently to fall under the power of the inferior pro- 
pensities. Lust and passion gain the ascendancy. 
Their exorbitant cravings pervert the judgment in 
favour of their objects. And under this corrupt 
influence, we confound the nature of things, putting 
evil for good, and good for evil. We easily persuade 
ourselves to believe those things to be lawful and 
good, which we passionately desire ; and on the 
other part, we as readily admit those to be evil, from 
which we have a rooted aversion. Thus our de- 
praved desires and affections become the most gen- 
eral source of the guilt described in the text. And 
they who are most enslaved to their lusts, are usually 
the most lost to a sense of the distinctions between 
good and evil. 

Other causes however have an influence in pro- 
ducing this effect. False notions of religion, bigot- 



DISTINCTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 43 

ry and superstition, have a surprising sway over the 
opinions of men with respect to morals. The vices, 
impurities, and dissolution of manners, which pre- 
vailed among the ancient heathen, were the obvi- 
ous effects of their corruptions in religion. Having 
become vain in their imaginations, and lost to the 
knowledge of the true God, they formed to them- 
selves idol deities, to whom they ascribed characters 
which could belong to none but the most abandoned 
and profligate of men. To these fictitious deities, 
they paid their religious homage. And having 
judged such objects worthy of their devotions, they 
of course considered their example and character as 
worthy of imitation, and as the highest model which 
they could propose to themselves. Hence in imita- 
tion of their gods, they gave themselves up to vile af- 
fections, being filled with "unrighteousness, fornica- 
tion, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness, envy, 
deceit, malignity." And while immersed in all these 
pollutions, in sins contrary not only to reason, but 
to nature itself, they still remained insensible of their 
guilt. Being of a reprobate mind and a seared 
conscience, they ceased to distinguish between light 
and darkness in a moral sense. 

In proportion as the ancient Jews declined to 
idolatry, and joined with the heathen around them 
in their superstitions, they became addicted to their 
vices, and were equally stupid and depraved in their 
morals. And after they were reclaimed from idola- 
try in the literal sense, superstition led them to place 



44 DISTINCTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 

religion in rites and forms, and in tithing mint, an- 
nise, and cummin, to the neglect of judgment, mercy, 
and faith. Hence they continued, and many of 
them to this day still continue, to confound moral 
good and evil. 

The effects of superstition in perverting men's 
notions of good and evil, were not more striking 
among Jews or Pagans, than they have been among 
Christians. In direct opposition to the plainest 
precepts of the Gospel, the latter in various instan- 
ces have been accustomed to put darkness for light, 
and light for darkness ; setting aside the most es- 
sential virtues and graces of religion, and substitut- 
ing the most idle forms in their place. Nay, under 
the baneful influence of superstition, the different 
sects and persuasions among Christians have been 
led to hate and persecute each other ; and to believe 
that the more furious and bloody they were, the 
more acceptable they would thereby render them- 
selves to the benevolent Father of the universe. 
The history of the christian church abounds with 
instances of such a spirit. In a greater or less 
degree, all parties and denominations have been 
chargeable with it, and, under the influence of false 
ideas of religion, have been led to violate the plainest 
rules of morality. 

But as another cause of our confounding good 
and evil, may be reckoned habit and custom, com- 
mon practice and the example of principal and 
leading characters among a people. The commis- 



mSTINCTION OP GOOD AND EVIL. 45 

sion of an unlawful action, at first is usually followed 
with concern and remorse : but after it has been 
often repeated, and the habit of doing it is formed, 
the mind by degrees loses a sense of its culpability, 
and at length, perhaps, reflects upon it with appro- 
bation. In this way, many have proceeded from 
evil to evil, till they have arrived at such a pitch of 
depravity as to glory in their shame, make a mock 
of sin, and boast of the foulest vices. And when 
any particular vice is common among a people, 
each individual is prone to consider the general 
practice as an excuse for himself. 

Many indeed seem to have no other ideas of 
good and evil, but what they derive from human 
laws, or from the maxims and practice of others 
around them. What they see done by their superi- 
ors in wealth, rank, or station, they often imitate 
without scruple. Under the patronage of great 
examples, they think themselves secure, though they 
disregard all the duties of religion and all the rules 
of virtue. Few are willing to be at the trouble of 
judging for themselves, or of comparing their actions 
with the dictates of reason and the precepts of 
Scripture. Many there are, who take up with the 
judgments of others, and are satisfied with them- 
selves, if their conduct be conformed to the fashion 
and general custom of the world. With them, 
therefore, virtue and vice change their nature, and 
are as variable and uncertain as is the test by which 
they try them. But I pass on, 



46 DISTINCTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 

Thirdly, To show, that notwithstanding good 
and evil are so frequently confounded in the senti- 
ments and practice of men, there is jet a real, essen- 
tial, and immutable difference between them. This 
difference is in the text represented as fixed and 
unchangeable, as is that between light and darkness, 
bitter and sweet. It is not accidental or arbitrary. 
It results not from law or power, but from the nature 
of things and the moral faculties of men. Moral good 
and evil are the proper object of our rational powers. 
To discern the distinction between them, is the 
peculiar office of reason. Those powers of reflec- 
tion which lead us from the things made, to ac- 
knowledge a Maker, and to ascribe all possible 
perfection to the great First Cause of all, do, at the 
same time, enable us, with equal clearness and cer- 
tainty, to discriminate in our actions, and to consider 
some as good and praiseworthy, and others as evil 
and blameworthy. If we acknowledge the moral 
perfections of the Deity, and attribute to him holi- 
ness, justice, truth, and goodness ; whatever we find 
in ourselves contrary to these perfections, our reason 
obliges us to censure as evil and culpable. 

From the obvious relation in which we stand to 
God, our Maker, there evidently results a difference 
in our actions. As we know that we ourselves 
exist, so we know as certainly that there must be a 
God who has made us and all other creatures. If 
we consider him as having supreme and unlimited 
power, we cannot but feel that it is our duty and 



DISTINCTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 47 

interest to revere and stand in awe of him. If he 
be perfect love and goodness, this idea of him con- 
strains our love to him. And his unerring wisdom 
should induce us to trust in, depend upon, and sub- 
mit to him in all his dispensations. The evil of 
opposite dispositions or exercises of heart in us with 
reference to these divine perfections, is as manifest as 
is the difference between darkness and light. If we 
believe him to be our Creator, Preserver, and Bene- 
factor, we cannot doubt of our obligations to love 
and obey him. For surely he who has given us 
life with all the comforts of life, is entitled to our 
gratitude and best services. The difference there- 
fore between moral good and evil, is as evident as is 
the relation in which creatures stand to their 
Creator. 

It is also equally manifest from the relation in 
which mankind stand to one another. No one 
doubts of his own right to truth, justice, fidelity, and 
gratitude from his neighbours. Of course, he cannot 
deny his obligations to practise these virtues in his 
social intercourse with them. And how necessary 
they are to the very subsistence of society, is also 
equally evident. Accordingly it appears from the 
most ancient history, that God expected the moral 
virtues of men previous to any express injunctions 
from him concerning them. We have heard of no 
revealed law against murder, when that crime was 
first perpetrated, and yet the divine vengeance set a 
mark upon the murderer. Neither the old world, nor 



48 DISTINCTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 

the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, nor the nations 
of Canaan had any standing revelation to direct 
them ; yet the waters of the flood, fire and brimstone 
from heaven, and the exterminating armies of Israel, 
were the inflictions of the Almighty for sins against 
the light of nature and reason. In the judgment of 
the great Ruler of the world, they had a law written 
in their hearts which ought to have restrained them 
from the vices into which they plunged. But a 
small part of mankind, comparatively, have been by 
revelation taught the difference between moral good 
and evil ; yet through all ages, and among all 
nations, this difference has been generally acknowl- 
edged. By a few individuals, indeed, at different 
periods, it may have been called in question. But 
these individuals have always appeared as real 
monsters in the moral world, as deformed and mis- 
shapen bodies are in the natural. The reason of all 
men, in proportion as it is enlightened and cleared of 
prejudices and prepossessions, not only acknowledges 
in general a distinction in our actions, but strongly 
approves all the branches of virtue, and as strongly 
condemns every degree of vice. 

This distinction is further confirmed by the 
known tendency of the former to promote individual 
and general happiness, and the contrary tendency of 
its opposite. These respective effects of virtue and 
vice are sometimes indeed remote and distant. 
Hence the temptation to the thoughtless and incon- 
siderate to confound them. Hence their delusions 



DISTINCTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 49 

and mistakes concerning them. It is because' men 
consider not the issues and final consequences of 
things, that they ever, in any instance, lose sight of 
the difference between good and evil. God has so 
constituted our nature and the frame of things around 
us, that the way of duty is universally the way to 
happiness. The accidents of this world, its wicked- 
ness, and the circumstances necessary to a state of 
trial and probation, may for a short season render it 
otherwise. But ultimately, piety, righteousness, and 
sobriety are found absolutely essential to human 
happiness. Having no respect to the conclusion of 
things, and regarding nothing but present gratifica- 
tion, wicked and unreasonable men would fain flat- 
ter themselves that there is no other good or evil, 
but what custom, the general opinion, and human 
laws have established. Yet it is certain that all 
reasonable laws are themselves founded upon this 
original, immutable, and eternal distinction. Should 
all the legislators on earth ordain that good should 
be evil or evil good, the decree would be as vain and 
absurd, as though they should ordain that darkness 
should be light, or light darkness, bitter sweet, or 
sweet bitter, pleasure pain, or pain pleasure. 

Nay, we are not to consider this moral distinc- 
tion as resulting even from the laws of God himself. 
When it is said in Scripture that the Judge of all 
the earth " will do right/' the expression implies 
that there is a right and a wrong in things them- 
selves, antecedent to any conceived law whatever ; 
7 



50 DISTINCTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 

and that all the divine laws are founded upon this 
distinction, and intended to enforce prior obligations, 
obligations necessarily resulting from the nature of 
moral beings and their relation to God and one 
another. When St. Paul exhorts us to " whatsoever 
things are true, honest, just, pure, lovely, virtuous, 
and praiseworthy," — the implication is, that these 
and all other virtues are essentially different from their 
contrary vices, and that the distinction exists in the 
nature of the things themselves abstractedly consider- 
ed from any law whatever, whether human or divine. 

But sufficient, perhaps, has been said in proof 
of this distinction. It remains briefly to show 

Fourthly, That God in the administration of his 
moral government over mankind will ultimately 
support it, and of course bring misery and ruin upon 
all who obstinately persist in disregarding it. This 
indeed is but an obvious inference from what has 
been already said. For if the moral character and 
perfections of the Supreme Being necessarily imply 
the eternal difference between good and evil ; if 
with reference to this distinction he has created the 
universe, adapting the nature of man and the frame 
of things around him to moral purposes ; if his will, 
as discoverable by reason, and as made known by rev- 
elation, with all its promises and threatenings, enfor- 
ces virtue and prohibits vice, — there needs no farther 
proof to satisfy us, that in the conclusion he will, 
with his infinite power, support this distinction, and 
bring full and irresistible conviction of it to the 



DISTINCTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 51 

minds of all his rational offspring. At that period, 
the wo denounced in the text against those who call 
evil good and good evil, and persist in confounding 
these opposite natures, will be realized in all its 
terrors. The present advantages of which they 
boast, will then be infinitely overbalanced by disad- 
vantages. In the end, their gain will be found an 
infinite, irreparable loss. For what shall it profit 
them, though they had gained the whole world, if 
the exchange prove the loss of their souls ? 

Let a practical sense of this truth, my hearers, 
have full possession of our hearts, and steadily regu- 
late all our purposes and pursuits in life. In reli- 
gion, let it be our care to regard nothing as essential 
which is not connected with real goodness. And be 
it remembered that the latter is not confined to any 
set of speculative opinions, or of outward forms, 
rites, and solemnities of worship. Upon these, 
therefore, the stress is not to be laid. However 
right they may be in themselves, still they are no 
certain criterion of real virtue. In judging of the lat- 
ter, we are to attend, not to our passions or prejudices, 
or to the customs, maxims, or opinions of the world, 
but to the dictates of reason, and the representations 
given in Scripture. These are to be regarded as 
the standard of our actions. And while we build 
our hopes of salvation upon the merits of a Saviour, 
and the free grace of God through him, we are to 
consider nothing as solid evidence of our being the 



52 DISTINCTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 

subjects of this grace, but real piety, virtue, and 
moral goodness. By the steady, uniform practice of 
these, we shall lay a foundation for comfort and 
honour in life, and a well grounded hope in 
death. 



SERMON IV. 



THE RELIGIOUS OBSERVANCE OF THE SABBATH SHOWN TO BE A 
DUTY OF UNIVERSAL AND PERPETUAL OBLIGATION. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

[While the author rejoices in the endeavours at this juncture ex- 
erted in different parts of the country to check the lamentable 
profanations of the Lord's Day, and offers his discourse in aid of such 
endeavours ; he submits it to the consideration of his fellow-christians, 
whether it may not be prudent to limit the restraints of law to ordi- 
nary worldly occupations, teams, droves, parties of pleasure, and such 
other secular pursuits and amusements, as bear on the face of them 
a manifest desecration of the day, without extending- said restraints to 
each solitary traveller who may have a just or plausible excuse. In 
numberless instances we are incompetent to judge one for another 
what things come under the denomination of necessity or mercy. 
Perhaps it is best in doubtful questions to leave our neighbours and 
brethren, each one to the decision of his own conscience.] 



GENESIS ii. 2, 3. 

On the seventh day God ended his work which he had 

made ; and he rested on the seventh day from all 

his work which he had made. 
And God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it : 

because that in it he had rested from all his work, 

which God created and made. 

In these words we have the original institution 
of the sabbath, attended with circumstances of the 
utmost solemnity. The earth itself and all the other 

* Preached when the Sabbath laws were revised by the General Court, and 
designed by the author to be published at that time. 



54 SABBATH. 

creatures had been first produced, when man, for 
whose accommodation and use they were intended, 
appears the last and chief of all God's works in this 
lower creation. Of him alone it is said, that he was 
formed in the likeness, or after the image of his 
Maker. This resemblance to God could consist in 
nothing but his capacity for knowing and rationally 
serving the great Author of his being. As the off- 
spring of God, raised above, and distinguished from 
the other creatures, by his intellectual and moral facul- 
ties ; his chief happiness must, of course, result from 
his communion and intercourse with his Maker. 
True religion was from the beginning essential to 
his happiness, both in his individual and social capaci- 
ty. As God intended his happiness, he created him 
under the obligations of religion, and, as a necessary 
means of religion, immediately ordained for him a 
sabbath. Our Saviour says explicitly, the " sabbath 
was made for man," that is, for the first man on his 
first creation, and through him, for all his descend- 
ants, who should, by the observance of it, become 
truly religious, and thereby ultimately happy. In this 
w 7 ay to allure us to happiness, by alluring us to the 
means of happiness, it pleased our gracious Creator 
to set before us his own example for the sanctifica- 
tion of the sabbath. To Omnipotence, the creation 
of the world in one day or in one instant must have 
been as easy, and, for aught we can conceive, as 
eligible as the gradually continued operation through 
six successive dajs, had not our instruction been the 



SABBATH. 55 

object. After narrating the works done on each of 
the six days, the history adds in the text, " and on 
the seventh day God ended," meaning, " had ended 
his work — and he rested ;" not as though weary, 
" for the Creator of the ends of the earth fainteth 
not, neither is weary ;" but he ceased from the work 
of creation, as having completed the model of his 
own infinite mind, and, from that day to this, has 
added to it no new species of animals, of vegetables, 
or of materials, not perhaps an atom of matter. This 
cessation from new productions is what we are to 
understand by hs " resting on the seventh day from 
all his work." The word also imports his satisfac- 
tion in the review of what he had done, as being 
very good. '■ And God blessed the seventh day, and 
sanctified it," that is, he separated and set it apart 
from the other days of the week, to be kept holy to 
himself — to be regarded as sacred to his immediate 
service ; a holy festival, on which the mind of 
man should find satisfaction and joy in meditating 
on God as discovering himself in his works, praising 
him for his goodness, and holding communion with 
him in the exercises of devotion. For these purpo- 
ses, and to be spent in employments similar to these, 
the seventh day was blessed and sanctified. That 
man might be induced thus to regard it by the ex- 
ample as well as the authority of the Legislator, 
God marked and signalized the day, by wholly 
ceasing from his creating work. In imitation of 
him, man is enjoined to rest from his usual worldly 



56 SABBATH. 

occupations, and regard the day as belonging to God, 
a time appropriated to his worship, to render him 
the homage due from his rational, moral subjects. 

On the very birthday of the world, this ordi- 
nance was passed, and the knowledge of it was 
probably among the first communications which 
Adam received from his Creator. But as he could 
not have understood what was meant by the sancti- 
fication of the seventh day, unless he had been pre- 
viously acquainted with many other principles of re- 
ligion, we must suppose that he was, on his first 
creation, at once furnished with /his knowledge, 
either by inspiration or some other mode of instruc- 
tion. If he was made upright in a moral sense, and 
his first actions were consonant to rectitude, the 
truths of natural religion in general must have been 
known to him. With the knowledge of God arid of 
his relation to him as his creature, he must have 
been sensible of his obligations to love and praise, 
serve and obey the Being who had given him exis- 
tence with all its attendant comforts. He must have 
concluded, that, by these things, he would attain to 
the highest dignity, excellence, and perfection of his 
nature. Experience would soon teach him, that a 
proper sense of these things could not be retained 
without frequent and close application of thought, — 
that, while providing for the subsistence of his body, 
and admitting those unavoidable cares and concerns 
attending such provision, he would be in constant 
danger of losing those views of God and devout 



SABBATH. 57 

affections towards him, which are essential to habit- 
ual piety, unless he had stated seasons for religious 
duties. The appropriation of some portion of time 
for these duties, is the dictate of natural religion. 
The observation of a sabbath in general has its 
foundation in the reason of things, though what 
proportion of time ought to be thus appropriated, 
may be matter of positive appointment. 

With the general* knowledge of religion, Adam 
received this appointment, and was commanded to 
keep holy the seventh day, as time belonging to God 
and his worship. Every day indeed is God's, the 
night also is his ; but after allowing man six days 
for his ordinary pursuits, he claims the seventh to be 
spent in an immediate attendance upon him, not 
merely for his pleasure, but for man's good and 
happiness. It was judged necessary for man even 
in his best, primeval state, while yet recent and inno- 
cent from the hands of his Maker. In order to his 
preservation in that state, and continued improve- 
ment as a rational, moral being, he was required to 
sanctify the sabbath. This precept, in the order of 
the history, precedes that which was afterwards 
made the test of his obedience in the terrestrial para- 
dise. How much more important and necessary to 
man, must the institution now be, in order to his 
recovery from his present state of degeneracy and 
guilt. 

8 



58 SABBATH. 

It is indeed true, that after the first institution, 
the sabbath is not again explicitly mentioned in the 
history of the patriarchs. From this omission, some 
learned men, fond of viewing it as a mere Jewish 
rite, have inferred that the original institution was 
subsequent to the departure of the Israelites from 
Egypt, and the record of it in the text, proleptical. 
But surely "the silence of history with respect to a 
rite or custom, well known to have been instituted 
or adopted, is no argument against such continuance, 
provided the reason on which the institution was 
originally grounded, remains the same." After the 
settlement of the Israelites in Canaan, no mention 
is made of the circumcision of a child through the 
whole duration of the Jewish economy down to the 
birth of John the Baptist. Will any infer from this 
omission, that circumcision was discontinued during 
that period ? And is it not equally unreasonable to 
suppose, in contradiction to the natural order of 
events, and the literal connexion of history record- 
ing them, that God left mankind destitute of so 
useful and even necessary an institution as the sab- 
bath during the patriarchal age ? Had he no church 
on earth ? Was there no religion in the world for 
the space of more than two thousand years after its 
creation ? Neither church nor religion could have 
been supported without sabbaths* The supposition 
of their being wanting through those early ages, is 
most arbitrary and extravagant. For what purpose, 
or with what propriety, has inspired history record- 



SABBATH. 59 

ed the institution as commencing on the very day 
succeeding the creation ? 

If man was the chief and ultimate object of the 
Creator in the formation of the world ; if to be 
subservient to him, the other creatures were evident- 
ly produced ; if the tribute of praise for the whole 
was to be expected from him alone ; — is it not absurd 
to suppose that he should have been left ignorant of 
any fixed season for the payment of this tribute, for 
discharging the duties of religion ? Must he not 
also have been left equally ignorant of the whole 
history of the creation ? Or will it be pretended, 
that God communicated to Adam the knowledge of 
what had been done on each of the six days, until 
he came to the seventh, and there stopped without 
a hint or intimation of the rest and sanctification of 
that day, notwithstanding the latter most naturally 
and obviously appears to have been the great aim of 
the gradual process of all the preceding days ? 

Certain it is, that Adam, on his first creation, 
was, in some way or other, furnished with a degree 
of knowledge to which few of his posterity can 
pretend. " He gave names to all cattle, and to 
the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field. 
The Lord God brought them to Adam to see what 
he would call them ; and whatsoever Adam called 
every living creature, that was the name thereof." 
During the formation of Eve, he is said to have been 
in a deep sleep ; yet he no sooner awaked, than he 
seems to have had a perfect knowledge of all that 



60 SABBATH. 

had been done ; and instantly exclaimed, " This is 
now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh ; she 
shall be called woman, because she was taken out 
of man." Other circumstances might be adduced in 
proof of his superior intelligence. Was he then 
supernaturally informed of these smaller concerns ; 
was he inspired with the knowledge of language, 
and with the knowledge of the nature of all crea- 
tures ; and yet left ignorant of the creation, and of 
the duty which he owed to the Creator ; ignorant 
of religion, and of the sabbath, the great instrument 
of religion ? 

On his apostacy and expulsion from Eden, he 
was doomed to labour and toil ; to earn his bread 
in the sweat of his face ; henceforward many wants 
and avocations pressed upon him, taking up his time 
and attention, and leaving him no power to perform 
religious duties, but in a way consistent with his 
present hard lot in the world. Religious duties 
however were then enjoined, and he was encouraged 
to the observance of them by the hope of being, 
through a mediator, restored to the lost favour of his 
Maker. He received a form of religion, adapted to 
strengthen his faith and hope in the promised Sav- 
iour. Besides moral precepts, he was directed to 
consecrate places of worship, build altars, distinguish 
animals into clean and unclean, bring oblations and 
ofTer sacrifices to God. In short, a great part of the 
law afterward published by Moses, seems to have 
been, at sundry times and in divers manners, before 



SABBATH. 61 

made known to the patriarchs. " Abraham," says 
God, "kept my charge, my commandments, my 
statutes, and my laws." By these several express- 
ions, all the various branches of the Mosaic dispensa- 
tion were afterward designated. There was, then, in 
the patriarchal age, a body of laws to direct the 
obedience, and a system of duties to guide the devo- 
tion of man. But in order to the performance of 
these duties, stated seasons were as necessary at first 
as they were afterward. " Such is the constitution 
of man, that he must have particular times set apart for 
particular services. If stated times for religious so- 
lemnities had not been enjoined, the consequence 
would have been that such solemnities would have 
been altogether neglected ; for experience shows, that if 
mankind are left at liberty when and how often they 
should perform religious offices, these offices would not 
be performed at all. It is the observation of holy times 
that preserves the practice of holy services ; and 
without the frequent and regular returns of hallowed 
days, man would quickly forget the duty w 7 hich he 
owes to God, and in a short time no vestige of 
religion would be found in the world." 

These consequences were distinctly foreseen by 
the all-wise Creator, and strongly, guarded against 
in his very manner of rearing the fabrick of nature ; 
with the foundations of the world, he laid a solid and 
rational foundation for our consecrating to him and 
his service a seventh part of our time. As often as 
we review r this ample creation around us, and reflect 



62 SABBATH. 

that it was the work of six days, we are reminded 
of the duties implied in the sanctification of the 
seventh. The latter being claimed by Him who 
is the giver of all time, we must feel ourselves con- 
strained by every motive of gratitude, duty, and 
interest, to consecrate it to his service. 

Though, as we have already admitted, the sanc- 
tification of the seventh day by the patriarchs be not 
explicitly mentioned, yet much occurs in their 
history rendering it highly probable. In Gen. iv. 3, 
4, we thus read ; " In process of time, Cain brought 
of the fruit of the ground an offering unto the 
Lord: and Abel brought of the firstlings of his 
flock." The season of these oblations here called 
the " process of time," is, in the Hebrew, literally, 
u at the end of days." Of what days ? Undoubt- 
edly on the last of those which make up the week. 
No interpretation can be more natural and obvious. 
As the septenary division of time was made by the 
Creator in his work of creation, so it was the first 
in use among men, and repeatedly occurs in the 
book of Genesis. At the end of seven days, week 
after week, Noah sends forth the dove out of the 
ark. After imposing Leah upon Jacob, Laban 
promises him Rachel, on condition of his " fulfilling 
her week ;" it is added, " Jacob did so, and fulfilled 
her week." Not only in sacred, but in profane history, 
this distribution of time into weeks, is mentioned as 
generally prevailing among the most ancient nations, 
the Egyptians, Assyrians, Arabians, and Persians. 



SABBATH. 63 

From the earlier ages, it passed down to the Greeks. 
Both Homer and Hesiod designate the seventh day 
as sacred. As this division of time could not have 
originated from any known law or phenomenon in 
nature, the only rational and satisfactory solution is, 
some traditionary fragment of the " six days' crea- 
tion, and seventh-day rest." 

That the Israelites in Egypt were not unac- 
quainted with the distinction in favour of the seventh 
day, may be fairly, and, I think, conclusively infer- 
red from the incidental manner in which the sabbath 
is first mentioned in the sixteenth chapter of Exodus. 
Among the directions there given concerning the 
miraculous manna, the sabbath is mentioned as an 
institution long since established, and well known 
to the people. The Lord said unto Moses, " Be- 
hold, I will rain bread from heaven for you ; and the 
people shall go out and gather a certain rate every 
day, and on the sixth day they shall prepare that 
which they shall bring in ; and it shall be twice as 
much as they gather daily." If the seventh-day 
sabbath had not been previously known to Moses, 
how could he have understood this order for gath- 
ering twice as much on the sixth day." No expla- 
nation was added, yet neither he nor the people appear 
to have been at any loss. They went out and " gath- 
ered manna every morning" successively, until they 
came to the sixth morning, when they " gathered 
twice as much hread, two omers fox one man ; and 
all the rulers of the congregation came and told 



64 SABBATH. 

Moses." Though the rulers well knew that this 
double quantity had been collected for their supply 
over the sabbath, yet as they also knew that this 
kind of bread, when kept over night, had constantly 
corrupted, they apprehended a serious difficulty, 
which induced them to state the case to Moses. 
After his solution, it is added, " And they laid it up 
until the morning, as Moses bade ; and it: did not 
stink, neither was there any worm therein," as there 
had been before. Had this been the first time of 
the Israelites keeping the sabbath, had the institu- 
tion been now new to them, " it must have been 
enjoined in a positive and particular manner, and the 
nature of it must have been laid open and explained, 
otherwise the term would have conveyed no mean- 
ing." But nothing can be plainer from this whole 
chapter, than that they had already been accustomed, 
at least as many of them as made any pretensions 
to piety, to regard this seventh day as sacred. In 
order to preserve it sacred, the Lord regulates 
the falling of the manna in conformity to its known 
and established law ; which is here spoken of as 
familiar to the people, and undoubtedly had been 
so to all the truly religious, from its first institution 
the dav after the creation. Of course, the mention 
of it again during that period of sacred history, was 
as unnecessary as that of any other common and 
generally received principle of religion. 

The style in which the institution was afterward 
renewed at the giving of the law on mount Sinai, 



SABBATH. 65 

evidently implies that it was but the repetition of a 
prior command, understood and generally known 
from the beginning. No other command in the 
decalogue begins, as does the fourth, with the 
word " remember," (implying a reproof of for- 
mer carelessness and inattention, and a strong cau- 
tion against them for the future), " remember the 
sabbath day to keep it holy." Let that day, as 
heretofore, be still regarded as sacred to religion ; 
and for the reason at first assigned, because "that 
in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the 
sea, and all that in them is ;" then follow the very 
words used at the finishing of the creation, "and 
rested the seventh day ; wherefore the Lord," then, 
at that time, " blessed the seventh day and hallowed 
it." In what language could there have been a more 
manifest reference to the original appointment ? 
The reason assigned for it on both occasions is not 
peculiar to the Israelites, but appropriated to all 
men, as all are equally concerned in commemorating 
the works of creation, and in adoring the Almighty 
Creator. 

We must bear in mind that the precepts of the 
decalogue were pronounced by God himself with 
the utmost majesty in the ears of all the people. 
"These words," says Moses, meaning the ten 
commandments, "the Lord spake unto all your 
assembly, in the mount, out of the midst of the fire ? 
of the cloud, and of the thick darkness, with a great 
voice ; and he added no more : and he wrote them in 
9 



66 SABBATH. 

two tables of stone, and delivered them unto me." 
These tables, thus inscribed, were, by divine order, 
deposited in the ark of the covenant ; and are them- 
selves called " the covenant," and " the tables of 
testimony." Do not these circumstances mark them 
as comprehensive and important above the other 
branches of the Mosaic dispensation ? When we 
consider them as first spoken, then written by God, 
— written, too, on tables of stone, purposely to denote 
their perpetual duration, and kept in the appointed 
symbol of the divine presence ; are we not constrain- 
ed to believe, that, if any of the divine requisitions 
are of eternal and immutable obligation, those of the 
decalogue are of that number ? 

It is certain that these are exclusively intend- 
ed by the term law, as it is often used in the New 
Testament, particularly by St. Stephen, Acts vii. 53 ; 
" Who have received the law by the disposition of 
angels, and have not kept it." Some suppose that 
there may be a reference to them in Matth. xxii. 40 ; 
" On these two commandments," those of loving 
God and our neighbour, " hang all the law and the 
prophets." Undoubtedly they are included in this 
declaration of our Saviour, " Till heaven and earth 
pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from 
the law, till all be fulfilled." 

If we had not been thus cautioned against too 
hastily concluding ourselves released from the obli- 
gation of any of the ten commands, our own reason 
might have taught us that, while God is one, no 



SABBATH. 67 

others ought to share in his worship ; while he is a 
spirit, he ought to be worshipped in spirit and in 
truth, to the exclusion of all corporeal images and 
representations ; while he possesses all possible 
perfection, our whole intercourse with him, and all 
our thoughts of him, and discourse about him, ought 
to be attended with the most profound awe and 
reverence. While we are entangled in the affairs 
of the present life, this knowledge of him, and these 
affections towards him, cannot have place in our 
minds. They will be neither cherished nor preserv- 
ed without stated seasons for his worship ; and, of 
course, the fourth command is equally reasonable, 
important, and necessary, as any other in the deca- 
logue. 

In repeating this command, Deut. v. Moses does 
indeed assign a reason for it different from that in 
the original institution. After mentioning its rest 
as extending to servants and labouring cattle, he 
adds, " that thy man-servant and thy maid-servant 
may rest, as well as thou. And remember that thou 
wast a servant in the land of Egypt ; and that the 
Lord thy God brought thee out thence, through a 
mighty hand, and by a stretched-out arm ; therefore 
the Lord thy God commanded thee to keep the 
sabbath day." From these words, some have inferred 
that the fourth command was given solely to establish 
a memorial of the redemption from Egypt, and was 
binding upon the Israelites alone ; but they might as 
conlusively infer, that the decalogue in general is 



68 SABBATH. 

binding upon them alone ; for it is prefaced with 
the same reason ; " I am the Lord thy God, who 
brought thee out of the land of Egypt, from the 
house of bondage." The truth is, that every renew- 
ed instance of the divine goodness in our favour, 
especially every great and signal instance, increases 
our obligations to obedience, and is properly urged 
as a reason by which we ought to be influenced. 
Nearly all the commands and exhortations addressed 
to the Israelites, are enforced by the consideration 
of the great things which God had done for them in 
their emancipation from Egypt. How often is it 
said to them, " Thou shalt not oppress a stranger ; 
for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt." Their 
having been strangers is here mentioned, not as the 
original ground of the law against oppression, but as 
a special consideration which ought to have weight 
with the Israelites above all people, in restraining 
them from inflicting the misery which themselves had 
so severely felt. The passage cited from Deuteron- 
omy ought to be explained on the same principle. 
Moses does not then give the original reason for the 
sanctification of the sabbath, but a special reason 
why the Israelites should allow their servants to rest 
and be refreshed on that day. The more powerful- 
ly to persuade them to this indulgence, they are 
reminded of their own hard condition, while in a 
state of slavery, when, no day of rest being permit- 
ted, they were urged on to their burdens, day after 
day without intermission. God, having now freed 



SABBATH. 69 

them, and raised some of them to the condition of 
masters, enjoins it upon them not to imitate the 
rigour of their former Egyptian oppressors, but to be 
lenient and merciful in the treatment of their slaves, 
allowing them a day of rest as often as they enjoyed 
it themselves. Upon the whole, this text, when 
rightly understood, is so far from making the re- 
demption from Egypt the original ground of the 
fourth command, and limiting its obligation to the 
Jews, that it mentions that redemption w 7 ith no 
other view but as a special motive to a better and 
moje general observance of the command. 

In like manner and in the same sense, the 
Gospel redemption, prefigured by that of Israel 
from Egypt, has increased the obligation on Chris- 
tians to obey the same command : so far from 
abolishing the sabbath, it has rendered the keeping 
of it holy to God, unspeakably more important, if 
possible, than it was of old. Such, however, are 
the misconceptions of men, that some have affected 
to believe that, as neither Christ nor his Apostles 
have given any explicit commands respecting the 
sanctificationof a sabbath or the appropriating of any 
particular day to the duties of religion, Christians 
are left wholly at liberty on the subject ; nay, they 
pretend that w r e are cautioned against submitting to 
any infringement of this our liberty, by suffering the 
observation of any particular day to be imposed 
upon us as more holy than other days. St. Paul is 
supposed thus to caution us when he says, u let no 



70 SABBATH. 

man judge you in respect of an holy day or of the 
new moon, or of the sabbath." Our answer to all 
this is, that though Christians are excused from 
observing the Jewish holy days, including even the 
Saturday sabbath ; yet nothing can be more incon- 
sistent with the whole tenor of the Gospel, than the 
supposition of their being exempted from the obliga- 
tions of the fourth command, and left without any 
fixed season for the duties of religion. Such a sea- 
son is implied in each and all the precepts requiring 
those duties. The whole frame of the christian 
church, whatever pertains to its instruction and gov- 
ernment, the ministration of gospel ordinances, and 
the performance of gospel duties, are inseparably 
connected with stated seasons, — a day regularly re- 
turning, set apart for those purposes. 

If it be asked, Why was this day not more ex- 
plicitly designated ? if the ancient season for reli* 
gious solemnities were changed, why was not the 
change so mentioned as to preclude all doubt ? this 
will appear less strange, perhaps, when it is consid- 
ered that, as Christ himself was a subject of the 
Mosaic economy, and through his whole life pre- 
served an exact conformity to all its institutions ; so 
his disciples had the utmost reverence for them, and 
on their being commissioned as Apostles, were still 
slow of apprehension with respect to the abolition 
of those forms of worship which had been peculiar 
to the Jews, and a wall of partition between them 
and the Gentiles. Their first converts too were 



SABBATH. 71 

Jews, who did not renounce their old religion when 
they embraced the new. They believed themselves 
still bound to keep the law of Moses, and many of 
them thought it necessary that this law should also 
be kept by the converted Gentiles. Their zeal in 
propagating this opinion among the churches of the 
Gentiles continued unabated through the course of 
many years, and, in divers places, occasioned no 
small controversy. The Apostles themselves judged 
it prudent, at first, to be tender and forbearing in 
their opposition to these Jewish prejudices. Though 
they did not suffer circumcision and the heavier 
part of the ceremonial law to be imposed on the 
Gentiles; yet, "as meats offered to idols, blood and 
things strangled," were held in the utmost abhorrence 
by the Jews, in condescension to them, and to 
preserve communion between them and the Gentiles, 
the abstaining from those things was, in a general as- 
sembly of the Apostles and Elders at Jerusalem, re- 
commended to the believing Gentiles. On the same 
principle, and lest the success of the Gospel among 
their own nation, should be hindered by a contrary 
behaviour, the Apostles themselves continued to 
observe the law of Moses in various particulars, 
which they knew to be no longer obligatory. 

Under such circumstances, while the distinction 
between the old and new dispensation, the shadowy 
and typical nature of the former, and its subservien- 
cy to the latter, were as yet so imperfectly discerned ; 
is it not conceivable that the Apostles might think 



72 SABBATH. 

that posterity would be sufficiently directed by 
their example, and by the example of the churches 
which they had formed, in keeping the first day of 
the week, without their formally instituting it, or 
giving to this new day, the name of sabbath, which, 
at that time, might have been ill received in conjunc- 
tion with the days already observed, or ill under- 
stood, and liable to be confounded with the sabbath 
which was now to sink into disuse ? Might they 
not leave it to time, and the increasing knowledge 
of the christian system, to discover the reason for the 
change, and to transfer, as far as they were of a 
moral nature, the well known obligations of the 
seventh, to the first day sabbath ? 

Both testaments, the old and new complete, 
being now in our hands, by comparing them, may 
not we discern a probable and weighty reason for 
the change ? The work of redemption is often 
mentioned in Scripture, as surpassing all God's 
other works, as a thorough renovation of the moral, 
and ultimately of the natural world, — in short, as a 
new creation. With reference to it, God says by 
the Evangelical Prophet, "Behold, I create new 
heavens and a new earth ; and the former shall not 
be remembered nor come into mind." In commem- 
oration of the former, the seventh-day sabbath was 
ordained ; but when Christ rose from the dead, he 
rested, as God did before, from that work which is the 
foundation of the new heavens and earth. If " the 
morning stars sang together," when they beheld the 



SABBATH. 



73 



frame of material nature rising, with a new and 
increasing rapture, they shouted " Glory to God in 
the highest," when they beheld the " chief corner- 
stone" of the new creation brought forth. By the 
latter is " made known to principalities and powers 
the manifold wisdom of God." It contains things 
"into which the angels desire to look." The first 
heavens and earth, being defaced by the sin of man, 
are doomed to perish. They are growing old, going 
to decay, and will at length pass away ; while the 
new heavens and earth are continually rising in 
grandeur and glory, and when completed will endure 
forever. " Be glad," therefore, says God, " and 
rejoice forever in that which I create." Was not 
this a prediction of their future commemoration ? 
Does it not furnish a just reason for dropping the 
seventh, and celebrating the first day sabbath ? 
That a sabbath would be regularly observed under 
this new dispensation, is expressly foretold in the 
subsequent chapter. " The new heavens and new 
earth which I will make, shall remain before me, 
saith the Lord. And it shall come to pass that from 
one sabbath to another shall all flesh come to wor- 
ship before me, saith the Lord." Isaiah lxvi. 22, 23. 
That this gospel sabbath would be the day of 
Christ's resurrection, seems to be intimated in Psalm 
cxviii. 22, 23, 24, as then his exaltation to be the 
"head-stone of the corner," would commence, 
through the " marvellous" power of God, he being 
"declared to be the son of God with power, by the 
10 



74 SABBATH. 

resurrection from the dead" — an event making this 
day peculiarly the Lord's, and stamping upon it his 
image and superscription. " This is the day which 
the Lord hath made, we will rejoice and be glad 
in it." 

By the coming of Christ and publication of the 
gospel, what was political in the law of Moses, or 
intended as a hedge around the Jews, separating 
them from the other nations, was abolished ; what 
was merely ceremonial and typical, was fulfilled; 
and what was moral and perpetually obligatory, was 
illustrated and enforced by more weighty and awful 
sanctions, better promises, and more alarming threat- 
enings. No small part of our Saviour's discourses 
consists in commenting upon, explaining, and vindi- 
cating the precepts of the decalogue from the mis- 
constructions of the Jewish doctors. Upon none of 
those precepts did he more frequently enlarge, than 
upon that which enjoins the sanctification of the 
sabbath. As the Scribes and Pharisees, by their 
interpretations and traditions, had rendered void 
several of the other commands ; so they mistook or 
perverted the design of the fourth. Under the 
influence of superstitious hypocrisy, which always 
dwells with punctilious exactness on forms and 
ceremonies, they lost sight of the original meaning 
of its rest and sanctification ; and substituted in their 
place, a kind of physical rest, a torpid inactivity. 
The original Hebrew word had never such a signifi- 
cation. While it marks, as used in the text, the 



SABBATH. 



75 



ceasing from such works as had been prosecuted on 
the six preceding days ; its principal force consists 
in denoting the fulness and perfection of the things 
made, and the satisfaction and complacency of the 
divine mind in the review of these its works. 

It was intended that something of a similar com- 
placency in God, and in the display of his perfec- 
tions/ should take place in our minds by our resting 
upon and sanctifying this day. Our ordinary cares 
and pursuits were to cease, that we might give our- 
selves to religious contemplations, and the expressions 
of homage to the Creator for our being, and for the 
well furnished world in which we are placed. But, 
as God did not rest from the care of his works on 
the seventh day, from preserving, governing, and 
providing lor them ; so neither did he intend or 
require that we . should rest on that day from any 
thing necessary to the preservation of our lives, 
healths, or substance. Whenever the labours of the 
preceding week would be in danger of being lost 
without our continued exertions on the sabbath, we 
are authorized by his example to make those exer- 
tions, so far as to prevent any special detriment. 
Nor was it his intention to require any thing like 
the Jewish indolence. As he, in his providence, 
works all things upon the sabbath, as well as on other 
days, rendering them subservient to his glory and the 
general good of his creation ; so those works by us 
which have this intention and tendency, are not un- 
suitable to the sabbath. Nay, the best possible 



76 



SABBATH. 



method of keeping the day, is by filling it up with 
exercises of piety and works of charity. 

It was thus that our Saviour, both by precept 
and example, hath taught us to keep holy the sab- 
bath day. As he omitted no opportunity of attend- 
ing public worship, it being his invariable " custom 
to enter the synagogue every sabbath ;" so he never 
declined any office of compassion, either to the souls 
or to the bodies of men on that day. When for the 
latter his enemies censured him, he answered, " it is 
lawful to do well on the sabbath." When they 
insisted that his w T orks were violations of its sacred 
rest, he declared that, so far from it, they w 7 ere but 
imitations of what God himself did every sabbath. 
"My father worketh hitherto, and I work." When 
they accused his disciples for plucking and rubbing 
the ears of corn, to satisfy their hunger r on the sab- 
bath, he replied, that what was thus necessary, 
could not be unlawful ; for moral obligation super- 
seded positive institution ; " God would have mercy 
rather than sacrifice." To convince them that the 
sanctification of the day consists, not merely in 
resting from work, but in performing such works as 
God has enjoined ; he reminded them of the 
servile and laborious operations performed by " the 
priests in the temple," when slaughtering, flaying, 
cutting up, and burning upon the altar, the beasts 
offered in sacrifice every sabbath, the law r requiring 
a number on that day double to that of other days. 
Further to correct their false ideas of this day, and 



SABBATH. 77 

teach them that human happiness is not to be haz- 
arded by its pretended observance, he assured them 
that it was not an arbitrary appointment, nor intend- 
ed merely as a test of man's obedience, like the 
forbidden tree in Eden ; but for his benefit, to sub- 
serve together with the refreshment of his body, the 
improvement of his mind. "The sabbath was 
made for man, and not man for the sabbath." 

Keeping in view what has been now offered, 
can it be supposed that our Saviour would have 
taken such pains in elucidating the sabbath, and in 
correcting the prevailing errors concerning it, if the 
period had been at hand for its final abolition ? Or 
can we suppose that the evangelists would have 
been so particular in recording his remarks upon the 
subject, if at the time they knew that there was no 
longer a sabbath ? To what purpose are those long 
discourses containing, in the whole through all the 
gospels, matter equal to several chapters — to what 
purpose are they, if under the New Testament all 
days are alike ? What instruction or advantage can 
Christians derive from the perusal of them ? Why 
did our Saviour say, " the sabbath was made for 
man, 7 ' words literally implying, all men, and agree- 
ing to all men ? Why too is it mentioned as a priv- 
ilege, a general privilege ? Why is it thus mentioned 
at the very time when this privilege is to be with- 
drawn, and men are to enjoy it no longer ? Would 
it not have been more natural, and far more conso- 
nant to truth, for him to have said, "the sabbath 



78 SABBATH. 

• 

was made for the Jews during their state of bondage 
to the ceremonial law, as a part of that joke which 
God in his wrath put upon their stiff necks ; but 
from which I am now come to set them free ?" 
However others may be impressed by these consid- 
erations, to my reason and conscience they bring a 
conviction of the continued obligations of the fourth 
command respecting the sanctification of the seventh 
part of time, as full and unwavering as though that 
command had been expressly repeated by our Sav- 
iour, as one of his own injunctions. Though no 
imaginable reason can be assigned for lessening that 
proportion of time originally reserved for the worship 
of the great Author of all time, yet a probable reason 
for the change of the sacred day from the last to the 
first day of the week, has been already suggested. 
The positive proof of this change may how be briefly 
stated. 

As constituted Head over all things to the church, 
the authority of Christ to change times and seasons 
will not be denied. An intimation of his purpose 
to show his authority in the approaching change of 
the sabbath, seems to have been given to the Jews 
in that saying of his, " the son of man is lord even 
of the sabbath day." There is a force and mean- 
ing in these words, worthy of the high charac- 
ter of the speaker, when understood as alluding 
to that day which would hereafter be styled the 
Lord's. It is possible, if not highly probable, 
that this his meaning was explicitly announced to 



SABBATH. 79 

his disciples on the very day of his resurrection. All 
four of the Evangelists are particular and express in 
their testimony that this was " the first day of the 
week." Why should such apparent stress be laid 
on this circumstance of day, if no matter of conse- 
quence was intended ? His resurrection was the 
great event, but whether this took place on the first or 
any other day of the week, was in itself, perhaps, of no 
great moment, unless it were intended that the day 
should be thereby marked and signally distinguished 
from the other days of the week. " Then the same 
day at evening, being the first day of the week, when 
the doors were shut where the disciples had assem- 
bled for fear of the Jews, came Jesus and stood in 
the midst." John xx. 19. At this interview he 
made many important communications to the disci- 
ples ; and that, among others, he now directed them 
for the future, to assemble on this day, is rendered 
probable by their being again actually assembled 
and his showing himself to them the second time 
on that day week, as in the 26th verse. It is hardly 
conceivable that this second meeting should have 
been accidental ; it has evidently the appearance of 
appointment. After his ascension, the disciples 
were again u assembled in one place, on the day of 
Pentecost," universally acknowledged to have been 
the first day of the week, when they received that 
miraculous effusion of the Holy Ghost, which qual- 
ified them for their mission to convert all nations. 



80 SABBATH. 

That henceforward it was the custom of all 
christian societies wherever formed, to hold their 
religious assemblies on the first day of the week, 
appears from all history, both sacred and profane. 
We read in Acts xx. 7, that at Troas, " upon the 
first day of the week, when the disciples came togeth- 
er to break bread, Paul preached unto them." He 
had come there on what we call Monday, and tarried 
seven days, apparently for no other purpose but for 
the opportunity of seeing the brethren assembled, 
and joining with them in the holy duties to which 
the first day of the week was now universally un- 
derstood to be set apart. Having had this interview, 
he was " ready to depart on the morrow." From 
1 Cor. xvi. 1, 2, it appears that the churches, both 
in Galatia and at Corinth, were directed to make 
their pecuniary collection for the poor saints at Je- 
rusalem, on every " first day of the week," clearly 
implying that they were accustomed to hold their 
religious assemblies on that day. At the time 
when St. John wrote the Apocalypse, this day was 
generally known, and distinguished by the name of 
Lord's day. Rev. i. 10. u I was in the spirit on the 
Lord's day" They who are predetermined not to 
find any day sacred to religion, may affect not to 
know what day is here meant ; but this title by St. 
John, as the similar one for the eucharist by St. 
Paul, sufficiently marks the appropriation of the 
day to the service of our Redeemer ; and implies 
that the whole christian world at that time were 



SABBATH. 81 

acquainted both with the day and with this its ap- 
propriation. 

In all questions not explicitly determined by 
Scripture, the example of Christ, of his Apostles, or 
of the church in the Apostolic age, has been always 
deemed a sufficient directory for Christians, carrying 
with it an authority equivalent to an express com- 
mand. If, too, any usage or practice of the first 
Christians but occasionally mentioned in Scripture, 
appear from the memoirs of the times immediately 
succeeding the age of the Apostles, to have been 
then universally observed in the church, — this has 
been always thought sufficient to establish the au- 
thority of such usage or practice. Upon this princi- 
ple, the testimonies of Ignatius, Justin Martyr, Ter- 
tullian, Dionysius of Corinth, Clemens Alexandri- 
nus, Origen, Cyprian, &c. must be decisive in ascer- 
taining what day St. John called the Lord's, and its 
appropriation to his service. 

To the epistles, apologies, and other writings of 
those fathers, and also the well known letter of Pliny 
to Trajan, giving an account of the Christians in his 
province, they may have recourse, who wish for 
farther satisfaction on this subject. After making 
quotations from all the above named authors and 
divers others, Mr. Baxter thus concludes ; " If scrip- 
ture history, interpreted and seconded by fullest 
practice and history of all the churches of Christ, 
and by the consent of heathens and heretics, and not 
contradicted by any sect in the world, be to be 
11 



82 SABBATH. 

believed, then we must say, that the Lord's day 
was commonly kept by Christians in and from the 
Apostles' times." As there was no general council 
in that early age to introduce and establish such a 
custom, it could have had no other origin but the 
authority of the Apostles, uniformly enjoining it 
on their proselytes in every country, where they 
succeeded in planting churches. 

Of the foregoing reasoning, this is the sum. 
On the formation of the world, and of man, its prin- 
cipal inhabitant, from him God required the duties 
of religion and set apart a season for the perform- 
ance of them. As the author of all time, and of all 
the divisions of time ; after having " made great 
lights, the sun to rule the day, the moon and stars 
to rule the night;" after having thus set the 
wheels of time in motion, and marked its divisions ; 
leaving six parts to the use of man, he reserved the 
seventh sacred to himself. In this reserve, however, 
he aimed at the happiness of man, who, as possessing 
a rational, moral nature, cannot be happy without 
the knowledge and love of his Maker. A season 
for acquiring and cherishing these essentials of reli- 
gion, was necessary for him while in a state of 
innocence, and much more so after his apostacy. 
Among the means prescribed for his recovery, the 
sanctification of the sabbath is of the first importance. 
It fills up the sum of moral duties enjoined in the 
first table of the law, and is a prerequisite indispen- 
sably necessary to the right discharge of them all. 



SABBATH. 83 

They who affect to consider it is a typical insti- 
tution, have never been able to point out the thing 
typified by it. The reason assigned for it at first, 
remains the same through every age. It applies in 
common to all men, to us upon whom the ends of the 
world are come, as fully as to the Jews of old, or to the 
patriarchs who preceded the Jews. Our Saviour in 
announcing that " it was made for man," has given 
it a sanction which cannot cease but with the exis- 
tence of men. The change of the day from the last 
to the first of the week in honour of Him, and of that 
new creation of which he is the author, is so far 
from lessening, that it rather implies a double obli- 
gation to keep it holy. That it was so kept by the 
Apostles and their converts, we have the testimony 
of Scripture. Its continued observance by their 
successors through the three first centuries, is attest- 
ed by Heathen as well as Christian writers in those 
ages. " This pious custom," says Mosheim in his 
Ecclesiastical History, " was founded upon the 
express appointment of the Apostles, and was uni- 
versally observed throughout all the christian 
churches." In the review of this mass of evidence, 
can we doubt of our obligations to sanctify the 
Lord's day, not only by a suspension of our secular 
cares and pursuits, but by conscientiously attending 
on those exercises of private and public devotion 
which the Gospel requires ? 

The allowed neglect of these duties by any sin- 
cere Christian, is utterly inconceivable. The power 



84 SABBATH. 

of godliness in his heart, must prompt him to make 
conscience of them, and take pleasure in them. To 
him the sabbath brings a welcome release from the 
cares and labours of this vain world, and an oppor- 
tunity for exercises and employments more suitable 
to the relish of his spiritual mind, and from which he 
derives a satisfaction and joy far superior to their's, 
whose corn and wine are increased. As the return 
of these sacred seasons is intended to prepare him 
for heaven, so they occasionally afford him a delight- 
ful foretaste of that good land. When duly observ- 
ed, they cannot fail to improve his acquaintance 
with God and divine things, strengthening his faith, 
brightening his hope, increasing his holiness, and, 
by a constant growth in grace, ripening him for the 
world of glory. The best Christians have always 
been the most strict observers of the sabbath, have 
rejoiced in keeping holy time, and expressed their 
gratitude to God for so gracious an institution. The 
prevailing desires of their hearts are breathed forth 
in the language of the Psalmist, " How amiable are 
thy tabernacles, O Lord ; I love the habitation of 
thy house ; a day in thy courts is better than a 
thousand. 7 ' 

Carnal, worldly minds, as they have no idea of 
pleasure in devotional exercises, may esteem the 
keeping holy to God a seventh part of their time, a 
burden heavy and oppressive, more irksome to their 
feelings, than all the toil of the six working days. 
But if a sabbath of a few hours here on earth be 



SABBATH. 



85 



such a weariness to them, ought they not to consid- 
er how they will be able to endure an everlasting 
sabbath in heaven ? Or, rather, ought they not se- 
riously to inquire, whether they have any scriptural 
ground to hope for admission into that holy place. 
Will any be received there without the requisite 
qualifications? The sabbath is ordained as a 
special season for acquiring those qualifications, by 
attending upon, and using the prescribed means of 
grace. It is an acceptable time, a day of salvation. 
Ought it not to be most diligently and earnestly 
improved, especially by those whose title remains 
still to be obtained ? To us all our Saviour says, 
" strive to enter in at the strait gate ; for many 
will seek to enter/' but, through want of sufficient 
exertion, " will not be able ;" and he adds, " the 
kingdom of heaven sufFereth violence, and the vio- 
lent take it by force." When, if not on the sabbath, 
is this force to be exerted ? 

The services of the sabbath are a great and es- 
sential part of the prescribed means of salvation. In 
the neglect of them there is no room for hope. The 
conversion of sinners must commence in their earn- 
est attention to the duties of holy time. Till they 
can be persuaded to " remember the sabbath day, to 
keep it holy;" all their days will be spent, if 
not in actual sin, yet unquestionably in a state of 
estrangement from that holiness, without which no 
man can see the Lord. If we would obtain his 
favour, we are directed to wait at his gates, and 



86 SABBATH. 

watch at the posts of his door. His call to us is, 
"Turn ye at my reproof; behold, I will pour out 
my spirit unto you." In order to our receiving this 
promised blessing, we must turn to the observance 
of his institutions, especially of his sabbaths. May 
we all hasten to place ourselves in this way of be- 
coming the happy subjects of his sanctifying spirit 
and grace ! 



SERMON V. 



FUTURE STATE. 



LUKE xvi. 27—31. 



Then he said, I pray thee, therefore, father, that thou 

wouldest send him to my father's house : 
For I have five brethren : that he may testify unto 

them, lest they also come into this place of 

torment. 
Abraham saith unto him, They have Moses and the 

Prophets ; let them hear them. 
And he said, Nay, father Abraham; but if one went 

unto them from the dead, they will repent. 
And he said unto him, If they hear not Moses and 

the Prophets, neither will they be persuaded, 

though one rose from the dead. 

Information of the greatest moment to us as 
probationers for eternity, is contained in the forego- 
ing part of this parable, which assures us of an im- 
mutable and everlasting state of rewards and pun- 
ishments after this life. In what has been now read, 
it seems to have been the design of our Saviour to 



88 



FUTURE STATE. 



quiet our minds upon a subject, about which we 
naturally form many anxious inquiries. When our 
friends are separated from us, and removed to a 
distant, unknown country, with what solicitude do 
we wish for information concerning that country, 
and their situation in it. This solicitude will be 
greatly heightened, if we ourselves are soon to follow 
them into that unexplored region. In his word, it 
has pleased our merciful Judge to give us all the 
information concerning the other world which his 
wisdom has judged proper, and perhaps as much as 
w T e at present are capable of receiving. But still, 
who of us would not think it an inestimable 
privilege, and a great confirmation of his faith, if he 
might be permitted to see and converse with one of 
his deceased friends, and hear from him a relation 
of what had befallen him after death, — how he had 
passed through that change, and what he had seen 
and experienced in the world of spirits ? Are we not 
inclined to think it a hard case, that no such inter- 
course is indulged, — that the secrets of the grave 
remain enveloped in impenetrable darkness, and that 
all the living are kept in such profound ignorance of 
the destinies of those who have passed the vale of 
death ? Undoubtedly the dialogue between Abra- 
ham and one his lost descendants, is intended to 
reconcile us to this allotment of Providence, and 
induce us to rest satisfied with those discoveries 
which are contained in the Scriptures. 



FUTURE STATE. 89 

Among those who are destitute of all the prin- 
ciples of piety towards God, many retain the affec- 
tions of nature towards their kindred. The adher- 
ence of these affections to the soul after its separation 
from the body, is supposed in the parable, and their 
influence prompts the request here made. Finding 
all application to obtain relief for himself to be vain, 
the rich man is here represented as expressing a 
a concern for his brethren, still living on earth and 
in possession of that wealth which was lately enjoy- 
ed by him ; lest by the abuse of it, and by following 
his thoughtless course, they might come to the same 
fatal end. He therefore proposes, what we are all 
ready to imagine must prove an irresistible mean of 
conviction and reformation, the mission to them of a 
monitor from the dead. In the reply of Abraham, 
it is ^affirmed that all just ground or reason for such 
a mission, has been superseded by what God himself 
has told them in the writings of Moses and the 
Prophets. With these writings, however, the rich 
man himself had been always favoured, and as they 
had failed of any effectual influence upon him, he 
supposed that they might also fail with respect to 
his brethren; and upon this ground repeats his 
request as a measure that would be more efficacious ; 
" nay, father Abraham ; but if one go to them from 
the dead, they will repent." They cannot withstand 
so awful a messenger, nor disregard his warnings. 
But Abraham puts an end to the discourse with this 
peremptory assertion, " If thev hear not Moses and 
12 



90 FUTURE STATE. 

the Prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though 
one rose from the dead." By putting this language 
in the mouth of Abraham, our Saviour gives it as 
his own judgment upon the case. 

We are not perhaps to understand him as deny- 
ing the possibility, or even the probability, that a 
man who has hitherto been but little influenced 
by the Scriptures, might be greatly affected by the 
apparition of one of his old acquaintance from the 
other world. Such an interview might give a 
new turn to his thoughts and reflections. His 
lusts and passions might at first be greatly checked 
by the surprise, awe, and warning of such a moni- 
tor. He might be excited to consideration, and 
should the influence of divine grace accompany this 
extraordinary event, it might prove effectual for 
his amendment. But the thing asserted is, that 
such a method as a general mean of conversion, 
would possess no advantage above those means 
already used, and that the generality of those men 
who persist in disregarding the warnings in Scrip- 
ture, would not be reclaimed, though one should 
come to them from the dead. 

At the express desire of his professing people, it 
was long since settled, that God should speak to 
them, not by ministers from the invisible world, nor 
yet by his own immediate voice from heaven. The 
Israelites once heard this at Sinai, but were so ter- 
rified, that they entreated to be excused from hear- 
ing it any more, and that it would please God to 



FUTURE STATE. 91 

communicate his will to them in a gentler way, 
through the mediation of men like themselves, 
through Moses and others whom he might commis- 
sion for the purpose. From such messengers they 
could hear his commands with that presence of mind, 
which is necessary to a right perception of the things 
enjoined. Accordingly the whole subsequent system 
of divine revelation has had this mode of communi- 
cation. The only qustion with us can be, whether 
those from whom it has been received had a divine 
commission. We can think of no other infallible 
proofs of this, but the gifts of prophecy and miracles. 
With such testimonials, Moses and the Prophets 
were abundantly furnished, and, being thus authoriz- 
ed, they spake and wrote. In the same manner, 
attended with a greater display of miracles, and of 
the spirit of prophecy, was the Gospel introduced by 
Christ and his Apostles. The canon of Scripture 
being thus completed, and the whole will of God 
committed to faithful records, and in this manner 
handed down from generation to generation ; mira- 
cles and supernatural gifts have ceased, as being no 
longer necessary. For the same reason, there is no 
occasion for apparitions or messengers from the dead. 
The counsels of God, so far as it concerns us to 
know them, being already revealed, nothing remains 
for any extraordinary messenger to effect. If new 
doctrines different from those already received, 
should be taught, they are to be rejected, though 
the teacher should be an angel from heaven. 



92 FUTURE STATE. 

It is admttted that the awe and terror of an ap- 
parition, might at first command greater attention 
than is usually paid to the instructions in Scripture ; 
but after the novelty should be over, and admonitions 
in this way should become frequent and common, 
there is, perhaps, no reason to suppose that they 
would be more successful than those already given. 
If we would wish them to be rare and singular 
instances, to whom should they be granted ? Does 
it not seem improper and incongruous that so 
extraordinary a privilege should be extended to the 
most incorrigible offenders, and withheld from those 
who would be likely to make a better use of so sig- 
nal a favour ? But on the supposition, that now 
and then, in the different ages of the church, this 
extraordinary method should be used with an indi- 
vidual, what may we reasonably conclude would be 
the effect ? At first, it might nearly frighten him 
out of his wits, but whether in the event it would 
frighten him out of his sins, may be doubted. After 
the consternation should be over, he would begin to 
query whether what had befallen him, might not be 
the work of imagination, — some impression upon* 
his nerves, the delusion of fancy, or a temporary 
frenzy. It would tend to confirm him in this opin- 
ion, that the like had not happened to others, as 
well as to himself. While nature is thus recovering 
from its fright, sin may reeover its strength, and the 
result may be an increased hardness of heart. In 
like manner, we often see men departing from those 



FUTURE STATE. 93 

resolutions of amendment which they occasionally 
form under circumstances of awakening and alarm, 
during a fit of sickness, or on the death of a near 
relation. 

What can be more solemn and affecting, 
than the last adieu of a dying friend ? If he has 
led an irreligious life, and is sensible of his situation 
in his final sickness ; the discourse of a man who is 
thus going to the dead, is nearly as impressive as any 
which we could hear from one just come from 
thence. His expressions of remorse and anguish 
for the folly and guilt of his past life, mispense of 
time, and neglect of the means and seasons of 
grace ; his earnest prayers to be spared a little 
longer, and his solemn declaration of the different 
manner in which he would live, if it would please 
God to grant his request ; his agony at the idea of 
what must be his doom, should he now die in his 
sins ; his earnest charges to his family and friends 
to avoid those evil courses, the reflection upon which 
is now the wormwood and gall of his soul, filling it 
with the most direful apprehensions, and a dread- 
ful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation ; — 
to surviving spectators and friends, all these things 
are greatly affecting, and rarely fail to produce in 
them, for a time, an uncommon degree of seriousness 
and religious concern. But the reformation thus 
produced, often proves like " the morning cloud or 
early dew." Such impressions soon wear off, and 
the resolutions formed under them are forgotten* 



94 FUTURE STATE. 

They who have seen such spectacles, and heard 
such discourses, by degrees recover their former 
spirits and return to their old habits. It is but sel- 
dom that their future lives show any permanent and 
lasting effect to have been produced. Nay, if the 
sinful creature himself, who was the subject of such 
conviction and terror, and made such vows and 
promises during his sickness, or while in a situation 
of apprehended danger ; should at length recover 
from his sickness, or escape from the danger,— -how 
common is it even for him to forget all his religious 
purposes ! Brought back again into the world, and 
returning to his old pursuits or amusements, he turns 
out to be the same character that he had been before, 
as bad, perhaps worse than ever. Losses, bereave- 
ments, sicknesses, dangers, and all the adversities of 
life, are so many awakening calls of Providence to 
repentance and reformation. If to these should be 
added apparitions and warnings from the dead, the 
latter would partake of the same general nature with 
those other warnings given us already, and when 
the repetition of them should render them as com- 
mon as it is to see men die, and hear their dying 
speeches, their effect upon the generality would 
probably be much the same. 

If it should be said that one coming from the 

dead, would settle the great question with respect to 

the reality of a future state, and do away all doubt 

• upon this most interesting subject ; it ought to be 

considered whether such a witness would be more 



FUTURE STATE. 95 

credible and more worthy of our confidence, than the 
proofs already set before us in the Scriptures. 
Should you be indulged with an interview with one 
of your old acquaintance from among the dead, how 
could you be certain of the truth of what he might 
tell you ? We are often deceived by the accounts 
given by living men, and how can we know that 
death renders them incapable of falsehood, or of 
passing an imposition upon us ? Besides, are we 
certain that there are no beings belonging to the 
other world, who might assume the shape and voice 
of our dead friend, on purpose to deceive us ? After 
the spectre had vanished, might not doubts and 
queries of this sort rise in your mind, and weaken 
the force of all that you had heard ? 

It is certain that no creature, whether human or 
angelic, whether pertaining to the visible or invisible 
world, can give us the least information about futu- 
rity, unless commissioned by the Supreme Being. 
How can we know that an apparition speaks by- 
virtue of such a commission ? The revelation con- 
tained in the Scriptures, approves itself to our reason, 
is adapted to general use, applies itself to the cir- 
cumstances of the whole human race, through their 
successive generations, and was at first introduced 
by manifold signs and wonders, as so many unques- 
tionable attestations of its being from God. If a man 
disregard this standing revelation, would he give 
more credit to the supposed or real vision of a ghost ? 
The latter produces no proofs of a mission from God. 



96 FUTURE STATE. 

It is not supposed that he works miracles. He 
makes a private communication to an individual, 
and disappears. The whole transaction is involved 
in mystery. We know not whence he came nor 
whither he went, nor can we be certain of the de- 
sign of his appearance. Would a revelation com- 
municated in this way be comparably so worthy of 
God, or so deserving of our confidence, as is that 
contained in the Scriptures ? 

It may indeed be urged, that an apparition 
would be in itself a miracle, and the sight of this 
would be more satisfactory than the report of mira- 
cles, said by the writers of Scripture to have been 
wrought ages ago. But it must be remembered 
that the man who sees, or only thinks that he sees, an 
apparition, is inevitably thrown into such a degree 
of consternation, as renders him ill qualified to judge 
of the report of his own senses. These often deceive 
us, and almost always when we are in a fright. But 
admitting that a man might be able to command 
himself upon such an occasion, would the sight of 
a vanishing ghost be a better or more rational ground 
for religious belief, than the holy Scriptures, handed 
down to us as they are, with so many circumstances 
of credibility ? After maturely weighing all their 
internal and external proofs, strengthened and sup- 
ported as they are by the general history of the 
world, is it conceivable that the man who rejects this 
evidence, would be converted by the sight of an 
apparition ? If the latter should frighten him into 



FUTURE STATE. 97 

a confession of faith, it surely could not be in itself 
a more rational ground of conviction. To all unbi- 
assed spectators he must appear as yielding to an 
inferior and more questionable evidence, after reject- 
ing the greater, more so!id, and substantial. He 
would not believe that God has spoken to the world 
in general by Moses and the Prophets, by Christ 
and the Apostles ; and yet believes him to have 
spoken privately to his own person by a ghost. He 
doubts of the inspiration of the former, notwith- 
standing the continued series of miracles by which 
it is attested, through a long course of ages, from the 
mission of" Moses down to that of the Apostles; and 
yet believes the inspiration of his favourite ghost, 
without any proofs or credentials whatever. These 
observations show the unreasonableness and absurd- 
ity of wishing for messengers from the dead to 
convince those who are not convinced by the Holy 
Scriptures. They justify the assertion in the text, 
that they " who hear not Moses and the Prophets, 
would not be persuaded, though one rose from the 
dead." They who can bring themselves to suspect 
the Scriptures to be a forgery, would find less diffi- 
culty in persuading themselves to believe the sayings 
of an apparition to be a delusion. 

The truth is, that since God has given us a stand- 
ing revelation of his will, attended with such cir- 
cumstances of credibility, as ought to satisfy our 
reason, it becomes us cordially to receive and acqui- 
esce in this, as a sufficient guide both for our faith 
13 



98 FUTURE STATE. 

and practice. We have no warrant to ask for any 
other or new revelation, nor for any extraordinary 
signs to confirm our faith in this. When circum- 
stances are such, that, if we be impartial and unpre- 
judiced, we may receive abundant satisfaction in an 
ordinary way, by the right use of our faculties, and 
of those helps and advantages which are placed 
within our reach, it looks like a tempting of God, 
in such a case, to call for supernatural proofs. Nor 
may we suppose that so perverse a curiosity will be 
indulged. 

Atheistical minds affect to doubt whether there 
be a God or a superintending providence. Observ- 
ing the uniform course of nature, they may call for 
some supernatural sign to convince them that there 
is a God, and that the world is the object of his 
care. But is it reasonable to suppose or imagine, 
that in condescension to such perverse spirits, to 
convince and satisfy them of his being and universal 
government, God will change the course of nature, 
suspend or alter any of his laws ; while by the 
standing testimonials of his power, wisdom, and 
goodness throughout the creation, he satisfies all 
reasonable minds of his being and perfections ; and 
has never left himself without witnesses in the vicis- 
situdes of day and night, the rotation of the seasons, 
rain from heaven, and those fruits from the earth 
which fill the hearts of men with food and gladness ? 
These things would be accounted miracles, at which 
we should all be astonished, were they not so com- 



FUTURE STATE. 99 

mon and familiar. On this account, however, their 
evidence for God in the eye of reason, is not the less 
full, strong, and demonstrative. While his eternal 
power and godhead are thus clearly seen and under- 
stood, from the things which he has made, and from 
his continued operations ; while there are these 
daily witnesses for him, these standing proofs of his 
providence, it is not reason, it is corrupt prejudice 
and perverse obstinacy which call for further evi- 
dence. 

The case is similar with respect to a future state 
of rewards and punishments, made known to us in 
the Scriptures. Reason acquiesces in those proofs of 
their certainty and reality which the Scriptures set 
before us. In the affairs of this life, our conduct is 
determined by far inferior degrees of evidence. It 
is plain, therefore, that they abuse their reason, who 
disregard the Scriptures with respect to their eternal 
concerns. 

When unbelief proceeds, as for the most part it 
may be feared it does, from corruption of heart, we 
can hardly expect that any increase of light and evi- 
dence in the understanding will prove a remedy. 
Would the man who denies God, be persuaded into 
the belief of him, by the sight of an apparition ? 
Would such a sight be a more rational ground for 
the acknowledgment of a Deity, than the whole 
visible creation, and the existence of all the millions 
of men now living upon the face of the whole earth ? 
If he can account for the existence of all these 



100 FUTURE STATE. 

without admitting the idea of a God as the cause, 
would he find any difficulty in accounting for the 
revivification of one man after he had been supposed 
to be dead ? With equal facility, the deist who can 
discredit all the proofs in favour of the Scriptures, 
would dispense with the testimony of one coming 
from the dead. If the depravity of his heart prompts 
him to disregard the warnings of Scripture ; the 
same depravity, after the fright should be over, 
would triumph over the admonitions of a messenger 
from the other world. They who are determined to 
indulge their vices, are under a kind of necessity of 
denying and rejecting those truths which prohibit 
and condemn them. Their deeds being evil, they 
hate the light which reproves them. They affect 
doubts and scruples of the word of God, that they 
may have an excuse for disregarding hisiaws. They 
call for more evidence, not because they really desire 
it, or are willing to be convinced by it ; but merely 
as a plea for not being convinced by that which 
they have already. 

With such men, no degrees of evidence, neither 
messengers from the dead, nor any other miracle, 
will have a permanent effect. Sacred history sets 
before us many striking experiments tried in vain 
upon such characters. What prodigies were wrought 
in the sight of Pharaoh and the Egyptians ; yet they 
were hardened under all these wonders. Balaam 
loved the wages of unrighteousness, and so determin- 
ed was he in the pursuit after them, that he was 



FUTURE STATE. 101 

hardly to be stopped by the terror of an angel from 
heaven, standing with a drawn sword to oppose 
him. The Israelites at Sinai heard the immediate 
voice of God, addressing them from heaven ; and, 
throughout their journies in the wilderness, beheld 
miracles every day, yet they continued a stifT-neck- 
ed and gainsaying people. When, in fulness of 
time, the Son of God himself appeared among them, 
and did the " works which never man did before," 
works so astonishing as seemed sufficient to have 
reclaimed the very worst of sinners (those of Tyre 
and Sidon, of Sodom and Gomorrah), these carnal, 
worldly-hearted Jews repented not and believed not. 
Among them was fulfilled the very thing requested 
by the rich man on the behalf of his brethren ; 
another Lazarus was raised from the dead, came 
and testified unto them ; yet they were not persuad- 
ed. Nay, when Christ himself, in fulfilment of his 
own prediction, a prediction well known to the 
Jewish rulers, rose from the dead on the third day ; 
instead of believing on him, with what virulence did 
they set themselves to smother and suppress the 
knowledge of this fact. The avaricious soldiers, 
too, who had quaked with fear, while beholding it 
at the dawn of the morning, did yet, on that very 
day, suffer themselves to be hired to bear false tes- 
timony against it. Are not these astonishing illus- 
trations of the assertion in the text, that they who 
" hear not Moses and the Prophets would not be 
persuaded, though one rose from the dead ?" 



102 FUTURE STATE. 

By not hearing Moses and the Prophets, is meant 
not obeying them. The Jews in general professed 
to believe them. So multitudes at this day profess 
to believe the Gospel, who obey it not. They 
might also, in the same sense, believe the admoni- 
tions of a messenger from the dead, and yet not 
obey them. Certain it is that such a messenger 
could not enforce obedience by arguments more 
weighty, motives more solemn and awful, than those 
urged in the Gospel. Of course, they who believe 
the Gospel, and yet disobey it, would from the 
same principles disobey a messenger from the dead. 
With reference, therefore, to every class of incorri- 
gible sinners, whether atheists, deists, or professed 
Christians who live w T ickedly, the assertion in the 
text holds true, " neither would they be persuaded, 
though one should come to them from the dead." 

My hearers, it may well restrain us from wish- 
ing to see and converse with any of our deceased 
friends, or desiring any other extraordinary method 
to be used for our conversion, to consider that 
without the concurring influences of the Spirit of 
God, no means whatever will prove effectual. In 
the diligent use of the appointed means of grace, 
we are encouraged to hope for the assistance of the 
Holy Spirit. But if we undervalue these, hoping 
that God will attempt our recovery by some extraor- 
dinary interposition, we may provoke him to with- 
draw his spirit from us. If so presumptuous a desire 
should be gratified; yet, not being accompanied with 



FUTURE STATE. 103 

sanctifying grace, it might serve in the end but to 
enhance and aggravate our condemnation. They 
"who are careless and indifferent about waiting upon 
God, and seeking his grace in his appointed way, 
can have no ground to hope for success in those 
other ways which are of their own devising. 

A thorough conviction of the reality of that 
misery, in which the rich man was plunged, would 
rouse each of us, one and all, to the most earnest, 
fervent, and unremitting diligence in seeking the grace 
of God. Nothing would tempt us to forego any 
opportunity favourable to our spiritual improvement 
and eternal wellbeing. By our eagerness and zeal 
in embracing every such opportunity, we should be 
seen flying from the wrath to come, pressing into 
the kingdom of God, striving to secure our entrance 
at the strait gate, seizing by a holy violence on that 
prize of immortality, that hope of life eternal, which 
the Gospel sets before us. The apparent reverse of 
all this in the feelings and conduct of most people, 
is owing to their incredulity or insensibility of their 
liableness to the misery of the undone wretch in the 
text. They have no realizing apprehension of any 
such danger awaiting them. But why is it that they 
are thus secure ? To what can it be owing that 
they do not see and feel their danger. Has it not 
been announced to them by those of whose veracity 
they can have no pretence to doubt ? In the text, 
our Saviour implicitly declares, that the people who 
lived under the old Testament dispensation, favoured 



104 FUTURE STATE. 

with the writings of Moses and the Prophets, had in 
them sufficient warning of the dreadful punishment 
which would overtake them in another world, should 
they leave this in a state of impenitence. If one were 
to go to them from the dead, and testify to them the 
horrible torments which the souls of their deceased 
ungodly kindred were at that instant suffering in 
hell, — such a testimony from such a messenger would 
not be equal to, nor so worthy of their belief, as was 
that of Moses and the Prophets. Thus without 
excuse were unbelievers among the ancient Israel- 
ites. Much more, however, has been done for us, 
who are favoured with the light of Christianity. In 
addition to the same Moses and the Prophets, we 
have Christ and his Apostles. So much fuller and 
clearer is what the Gospel has made known to us 
above what had been before taught concerning a 
future state, a heaven and a hell, that it has almost 
removed the veil which hides from us those unseen 
states. So much superior are its discoveries, that 
it is extolled as having brought them to light. It is 
the testimony, not of a vanishing ghost, but of a 
person next in dignity to the eternal Father of the 
whole creation ; the brightness of his glory, the 
express image of his person, sitting with him at his 
right hand on the throne of the universe, having the 
eternal destinies of all men in his hands. From him 
who is thus exalted, and invested with the keys of 
hell and death, with power to admit into heaven, 
and to lock in hell — we are assured of life eternal 



FUTURE STATE. 105 

for as many as believe in and obey him ; and of 
death eternal in reserve for all the wicked and im- 
penitent. To the one it will be said, " Come, ye 
blessed ;" to the other, " Depart, ye cursed, into ever- 
lasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels !" 
As specimens of the execution of these two 
opposite sentences, in the parable of which the text 
is a part, the same faithful and true witness selects 
two individuals, and contrasts their different condi- 
tions in this life and in the next. One has large 
possessions, dwells in a palace, is arrayed in prince- 
ly robes, in purple and fine linen, and partakes of 
all the luxuries of the world, faring sumptuously 
every day. The other is a beggar lying at the gate 
of his opulent neighbour, unable to help himself, and 
without any means of subsistence — covered over 
with disgusting ulcers — all exposed naked to the 
air and to the dogs — being destitute alike both of 
clothes and of food, and who would have been glad 
to share with the dogs in what fell from the table 
within the palace. After the death of these two 
men, the future scene opens, — the second contrast 
begins, setting before us their condition in the unseen 
world. The beggar, at the heavenly banquet, re- 
clines on the bosom of the great father of the faithful. 
The rich man, in hell, suffering exquisite torture, 
witnesses the present felicity of the beggar, and now 
desires from him a drop of water, more earnestly 
than he had before longed for the crumbs of his 
table. The great gulf, excluding all intercourse or 
14 



106 FUTURE STATE. 

transition from one state to the other, leaves the 
miserable sufferer absolutely hopeless. 

In the opposite conditions of these two men, we 
see what each of us has to expect after this life, 
according to our respective characters, as righteous 
or wicked, as those who obey or disobey the Gospel 
of Christ. Ought we not to have a full and unwav- 
ering belief in these things ? After God has spoken 
them to us by his Son from heaven, is it not won- 
derful lhat there should be any among us who pro- 
fess to believe in Christ, and yet boldly reject these 
his doctrines. The fact, however, is, that in this 
vicinity there are several large congregations, calling 
themselves Christians, and observing the forms of 
christian worship, whose teachers are understood to 
deny all future punishment ; and who assure their 
hearers, that, be their characters what they may, 
they will all, when they die, be received into Abra- 
ham's bosom. This belief is reported to prevail 
more or less throughout the country, and to be es- 
poused by some in almost every parish. Can there 
be a more complete subversion of the whole system 
of the Gospel, or a more daring attempt to make 
Christ the minister of sin, and the great patron of 
sinners ? Can any error be more fatal to the souls 
of men, more pernicious to their morals and manners, 
or more threatening to good order and government ? 
May not all sorts of crimes be expected to follow 
where such opinions have gone before and paved 
the way? 



FUTURE STATE. 107 

There is another description of universalists 
among us, whose tenets are not so directly perni- 
cious to virtue, but yet, as not according with the 
form of sound words contained in the Scriptures, 
cannot, in my view, be adopted with safety; — I 
mean those who admit the certainty and reality of 
future punishment, but deny that it will be eternal. 
Their imagination is shocked at the idea of a mise- 
ry that will never end, of " a fire which is never 
quenched, and of a worm which never dies." They 
endeavour, therefore, to believe, that after a certain 
period of torment, the rich man, with the wicked in 
general, will be brought to repent, and will then be 
liberated ; — that the great gulf will be filled up, 
or a bridge thrown over it on which they may pass 
to heaven. We should all most joyfully hail this 
belief, were it supported by scripture authority. 
But had it been the design of Christ, that we should 
so believe, would he not have given some hint or 
intimation of the kind in the parable before us, or in 
some or other, of his various discourses on the day 
of judgment and final consummation of all things? 
In all these, however, the reverse is explicitly affirm- 
ed. Throughout the Scriptures, from Genesis to 
Revelation, destruction, perdition, everlasting 'pun- 
ishment are the threatened and predicted end of the 
wicked. How, then, can salvation be their final 
portion ? 

According to this theory, future punishment will 
be disciplinary ; like the afflictions of the present 



108 FUTURE STATE. 

life, all intended for the benefit of the sufferers, to 
bring them to repentance, and so to salvation. But 
this hypothesis is so far from being supported, that 
it is explicitly contradicted by the general tenor of 
Scripture. The late Dr Chauncy admitted that 
the punishment of the wicked might continue for a 
very long duration, even for ages of ages, though 
he was confident it would cease on their repentance, 
that each sufferer would be released as soon as he 
should repent. But will they not all repent at the 
moment when they shall be convinced of the reality 
of this misery ? Could repentance then avail them, 
surely the sight, without the experience of hell tor- 
ments, must be sufficient to produce it. u When 
once the master of the house has risen up, and shut 
the door," at that juncture, the excluded are repre- 
sented as repenting, u knocking," and with the 
utmost importunity supplicating admission. The 
dreadful reply which they receive, shows their re- 
pentance to be too late. 

What room for hope can there be, in favour of 
those w 7 ho shall receive "judgment without mercy — 
the full recompense of their deeds — be punished 
according to their works," — and being once in the 
place of punishment, " shall not come forth thence 
till they have paid the uttermost farthing?" Of 
course, they must suffer the full penalty of God's 
law. If after this they shall be saved, their salva- 
tion will be, not of grace, but on the ground of their 
having, in their own persons, answered the demands 



FUTURE STATE. 109 

of the law. But is not a salvation of this kind 
represented, throughout the Gospel, as impossible? 
How often is the assertion repeated, " by the deeds 
of the law, no flesh shall be justified." 

My brethren, after nearly three score and ten 
years' acquaintance with the Holy Scriptures, it does 
appear to me to have been the intention of the 
writers of them, that we should believe that if we 
die in our sins, impenitent and unrenewed, we shall 
be lost and undone forever ! This fear is set before 
us on purpose, that it may aid and facilitate our 
escape from the threatened danger. I appeal to 
your judgment, whether it will not be more wise and 
rational to cherish this fear, than to attempt to abate 
or lessen it ? Tremendous as the idea is, should we 
not keep it always in our thoughts, till it has pro- 
duced the effect intended by our Saviour's discourse 
in the text ; and brought us to a fixed resolution to 
part with our sins, and to comply with all those 
duties prescribed as necessary to the working out of 
our salvation ? May the divine mercy grant that we 
may all fly from the wrath to come, and take hold 
on eternal life ! 



SERMON VI. 



PHARISEES' RIGHTEOUSNESS. 



MATTHEW v. 20. 

Except your righteousness shall exceed the righteous- 
ness of the Scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no 
case enter into the kingdom of heaven. 

These words occur in what is called our Lord's 
Sermon on the Mount. In that discourse, he ex- 
plains the true meaning of various precepts contain- 
ed in the divine law, and vindicates these precepts 
from the corrupt glosses and false constructions of 
the Scribes and Pharisees. In this connexion, the 
text comes in as a solemn caution against the corrupt 
principles of those Jewish teachers. 

In the writings of the Evangelists, no words are 
of more frequent occurrence, than Scribes and Phari- 
sees. They are thus generally mentioned together, 
probably on account of their close affinity and agree- 
ment with each other. In our Saviour's time, those 
among the Jews who were devoted to the study of 
the law, its authorized transcribers and public ex- 



PHARISEES' RIGHTEOUSNESS. Ill 

pounders, had the title of Scribes and Doctors of the 
Law. They were its regular public teachers, the 
preaching clergy who instructed the people, while 
the priests attended the sacrifices. Their profession 
and the duties of their office required in them a most 
thorough knowledge of the holy Scriptures ; and 
this they were supposed to possess, as appears from 
Herod's consulting with the " Scribes of the people," 
as well as with the chief priests, when he wished to 
learn where, according to the prophecies, the " Mes- 
siah should be born." 

The Pharisees were a religious sect or denomi- 
nation, distinguished from others by their own pe- 
culiarities ; and these peculiarities consisted in their 
claim to a knowledge of the law more accurate, a 
veneration for it more profound, and an observance 
of it more strict and scrupulous, than were professed 
by others. It may naturally be supposed that the 
Scribes were generally of this sect, among whom 
the law of God was held in such high estimation. 
On account of their officiating as public teachers, 
the Scribes and Pharisees are said " to sit in Moses' 
seat ;" and our Saviour exhorts the people to regard 
and obey them so far as they taught the uncorrupted 
doctrines of Moses. 

We are to remember that, at this time, the Jew- 
ish religion, as contained in the writings of Moses 
and the Prophets, was the only true religion in the 
world ; and the Jewish nation the only people on 
earth by whom this religion was professed. To 



112 PHARISEES' RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

them pertained the adoption, the glory, the cove- 
nants, the giving of the law, the service of God, and 
the promises. From the early ages of the world, 
they had been the depositaries of the oracles of God. 
On them alone had the light of divine revelation 
directly and immediately shone ; and them only had 
Jehovah acknowledged as his chosen people. Their 
country was the valley of vision. They inherited 
it is a promised possession, a type of the heavenly 
Canaan, the future incorruptible inheritance reserved 
for the saints in light. God had not dealt so with 
any other nation ; and as for his revealed judgments, 
they were unknown to whole heathen world. 

Of all descriptions of people in this so highly 
favoured and distinguished nation, the Scribes and 
Pharisees held the first rank, and were the most 
eminent for their religious character. As the in- 
structed of their brethren, the study of religion 
was essential to their profession ; and they 1 had 
opportunity and advantages for superior attainments 
in knowledge. As Pharisees, the peculiarities of 
their profession required and supposed them to pos- 
sess a degree of sanctity above others. Their right- 
eousness was supposed to exceed what was obliga- 
tory on the people at large, and even to rise above 
the requirements of the law. Such was their repu : 
tation for piety, devotion, and sanctity of manners, 
that it is reported to have become a proverbial say- 
ing, "- that if but two men went to heaven, one of 
them would be a Pharisee." 



PHARISEES' RIGHTEOUSNESS. 113 

How startled, may we then suppose, were our 
Lord's hearers at his declaration in the text ! To 
his present auditors, and, through them, to us and 
to all others, with the utmost solemnity he declares, 
that unless our righteousness, our inherent holiness, 
shall exceed that inculcated by the doctrines, or 
exhibited in the lives of the Scribes and Pharisees, 
unless it be of a different nature from theirs, we 
shall, by no means, be acknowledged as his subjects 
or admitted to the privileges of his heavenly king- 
dom. 

My hearers, we may not imagine ourselves un- 
interested in this declaration. In thus deciding upon 
the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, the 
great Head of the church, and final Judge of the 
world, certainly intended our admonition and warn- 
ing. As what was said with reference to them, was 
upon a subject which is now as greatly interesting 
to ourselves, it should naturally awaken our most 
earnest attention. Were you seeking to be intro- 
duced to some great and powerful prince, on whose 
favour your whole fortune depended, and were you 
apprized that your appearing in a particular dress 
would be necessary to your admission ; if it were 
at the same time announced that certain applicants 
before you, confident that they were rightly habited, 
had been utterly rejected on account of their having 
judged amiss on this article, — ^ r ould you not solici- 
tously inquire in what habit they had made the 
attempt, and most diligently compare it with your 
15 



114 PHARISEES' RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

own ? Or were the possession of a great estate or 
some high dignities proposed, on condition of ac- 
quiring skill in a certain art or science ; and a num- 
ber of candidates, after much trouble and pains thus 
to accomplish themselves, had been pronounced 
deficient in the requisite qualifications, and thereby 
missed their objects,— would you not, engaged in 
the same pursuit, and aiming at the same objects, 
wish to learn the particular defects which occasioned 
their claims to be set aside ? Would you not fear 
lest yourselves might fall into similar mistakes, and 
meet with a similar disappointment ? 

As Christians, my brethren, the objects of our 
professed aim are, not the favours and honours of 
earthly princes, nor the peculiar treasure of kings, 
nor any worldly possessions or dignities ; but the 
privileges and blessings of the Messiah's kingdom, 
the heavenly inheritance and life eternal in store for 
all his qualified subjects. At all times, under the 
law as well as under the Gospel, true religion, inhe- 
rent righteousness or holiness, is the qualification 
indispensably requisite to the actual possession of 
these objects. The attainment of them was undoubt- 
edly the aim of the Scribes and Pharisees of old, and 
they took much pains, in their way, to acquire what 
they thought the necessary qualifications. It has 
been already shown, that, of all men, they were 
favoured with the greatest external advantages for 
understanding and practising that righteousness with- 
out which no man can see the Lord. They had in- 



PHARISEES' RIGHTEOUSNESS. 115 

deed a sort of righteousness, its outward appearance 
at least. For any neglect or defect in the forms of 
godliness, they seem not to have been censured. 
They were constant and regular in attending the 
sacrifices, oblations, divers washings, and other 
ceremonial observances of the Mosaic ritual. For- 
merly, in the age of Malachi, their whole nation 
had been charged with a backwardness to furnish 
the means for the support of God's worship. They 
were accused of robbing God in " tithes and offer- 
ings,'' — through a greedy avarice, defrauding the 
ministers of religion of those tenths by law required 
for their support. But so anxious were the Phari- 
sees to escape all reproach in this respect, that they 
tithed the minutest articles of their produce. They 
would not make use of the common herbs of their 
gardens, till the tenth part of them had been first 
consecrated to religion. In the observance of public 
festivals and the seasons appropriated to the duties 
of religion, no men could be more scrupulous, exact, 
and even rigorous. Nay, that they might not be 
wanting in any form of devotion, or appearance of 
bodily mortification, it was peculiar to the sect of 
the Pharisees to set apart, over and above what the 
law had appointed, two days in every week for pri- 
vate, personal devotion. 

My brethren, when we consider these appear- 
ances of piety, and compare them with the face of 
religion among ourselves at the present day, are we 
not above measure astonished and alarmed at the 



116 PHARISEES' RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

declaration of our Saviour in the text ? If these 
Pharisees, who made conscience of performing so 
many religious duties, and who expended so much 
time and pains in the performance of them, did, 
after all, fail of that righteousness which is essential 
to our being the heirs of salvation, what must become 
of the present generation of mankind ? True indeed 
it is, that there may be the appearance of religion 
without the reality, and the form of godliness with- 
out the power ; but, on the other part, it is equally 
true, that there can be no religion in those who are 
destitute of its appearance, no godliness in those 
who neglect its forms. From the tree covered with 
leaves and blossoms, and exhibiting a most beautiful 
and promising appearance, it is not certain before- 
hand that any fruit will be gathered ; but from the 
tree already dead, which neither buds, nor blossoms, 
nor puts forth leaves, we know that there can be no 
fruit. The latter is evidently the present state of 
all those persons in whom there are no appearances 
of religion, who respect it neither in their own 
houses nor in the house of God, but customarily 
neglect all its seasons and duties. If such persons 
entertain any hope beyond this life, it cannot be 
founded on the Gospel of Christ. They can have no 
pretence for flattering themselves with the expecta- 
tion of any future benefit or advantage from him. 
If they would allow themselves to reflect upon the 
subject, they must know with the fullest certainty, 
that, in their present state, they are uninterested in 



PHARISEES' RIGHTEOUSNESS. 117 

Christ, unentitled to salvation through him, — that 
they are of the number of those of whom it is said, 
that " they are condemned already," and that " the 
wrath of God abideth on them." We may and 
ought to lament over such characters ; but as, by the 
supposition, they are not the customary attendants 
on God's house and worship, they cannot be here 
addressed. 

Our present inquiries concern ourselves. As 
professed Christians, we have a sort of righteous- 
ness. Let us then examine whether it be better, 
whether it exceed that of the Pharisees. In outward 
forms we are required to equal them. It was a part 
of Christ's mission into the world to abolish the 
more burdensome and showy parts of the ancient 
religion. In lieu of all the numerous rites and cer- 
emonies of Moses, baptism and the Lord's supper 
are the only positive institutions of Christ. These, 
accompanied with prayer and praise and the ministry 
of the word, constitute the public forms of Christian 
worship. One day in seven is the only time 
expressly appropriated to these purposes. The 
many other sabbaths and holy days required of old 
by the Mosaic law, are now made common by the 
Gospel of Christ. The duties of secret and family- 
devotion, being the dictates of natural religion, and, 
in some sort, observed by the heathen nations, can- 
not be said to be peculiar to the religion of Christ. 
The rites and forms of this religion being so few 
and easy, may it not be supposed that they will all be 



118 PHARISEES' RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

regularly and conscientiously observed by every one 
who is truly religious ? The fact, however, is, that 
the greater part of those who are called Christians, 
conduct as though it were left to their own discretion 
whether to observe the whole form of christian god- 
liness, or certain parts only, and these parts to such 
a degree, and at such seasons only as may chance 
to suit their own convenience. Accordingly, we see 
the great majority of our religious assemblies uni- 
formly excusing themselves from honouring the 
christian eucharist ; while some of them show an 
equal indifference towards that ordinance which 
stamps a visibility of Christ, and gives a title to his 
name. What form or public appearance of religion 
have we, excepting the Lord's day ? And in the 
observance of this, what a variety prevails ! Some 
think it quite sufficient if they go to church once a 
day. Better Christians, indeed, make a point of 
attending the evening as well as the morning service ; 
but having done this, many of them seem to think 
themselves excused from whatever else has the appear- 
ance of religion. Indeed their lukewarmness, their 
lassitude, their impatience at the tedious length of 
God's worship, their eagerness to have it over, their 
haste to return to more agreeable exercises or 
amusements, and their dexterity in finding excuses 
for worldly occupations on the Lord's day, may 
seem to imply a drawback upon the credit which 
might otherwise be due to their zeal for his honour. 



PHARISEES* RIGHTEOUSNESS. 119 

My brethren, I will submit a supposed case to 
your consideration: I will suppose that Christ, 
instead of setting aside, had continued upon the neck 
of his disciples the yoke imposed by Moses ; — that in 
order to our enjoying the privileges of his subjects, 
we were still required to attend all the costly sacri- 
fices and numerous ceremonies of the law, and, 
besides the exact and scrupulous observance of these 
forms, were required (a circumstance, perhaps, more 
nearly touching the sensibility of a certain class of 
people) absolutely to part with a whole tenth of our 
annual incomes to the support of religion. Were 
these the terms proposed by the Gospel, I would 
ask, what number of persons among us, in your 
consciences, ye imagine, would offer themselves as 
candidates for the kingdom of heaven, and persevere 
in seeking it by a righteousness equal in labour and 
and expense to that of the Scribes and Pharisees ? 
In this case, however, far as it is beyond almost 
any apparent example of religion in modern times, 
our Lord in the text declares, that even such candi- 
dates would ultimately fail of success. The truth 
is, that the righteousness of the Pharisees, however 
specious in appearance, exact and complete in exter- 
nals, was yet essentially defective in that sanctifica- 
tion of the heart and affections, and devotion of them 
to God and his service, which Moses, as well as 
Christ, requires as the life and soul of all true reli- 
gion. The love of God is the first and great com- 
mand ; as shed abroad in the heart, it is the princi- 



120 PHARISEES* RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

pie of true obedience to every other command, the 
root from which all the branches of righteousness 
spring forth ; the spirit which inspires and animates 
the whole system of true godliness, without which, 
rites and forms and all outward appearances are 
mere statues, lifeless pictures, empty shadows, sound- 
ing brass, and tinkling cymbals. 

The want of this principle was the grand and 
fatal defect in the righteousness of the Scribes and 
Pharisees, leaving it a baseless fabrick, an unfounded 
structure, a mere bodily exercise which could not 
profit. To them our Saviour peremptorily declared, 
" I know you, that ye have not the love of God in 
you." They busied themselves about trifles com- 
paratively, while they neglected the weightier mat- 
ters of the law. All their care and attention 
were taken up about rites and forms, were 
exhausted upon externals, in keeping the outside 
clean, while, their hearts and affections being neg- 
lected, every depraved desire and passion was suf- 
fered to grow and predominate within, and they 
were full of extortion and excess. On this account 
our Lord compared them to painted sepulchres, 
which seem beautiful without, and make a shining 
appearance, but within are full of dead men's bones 
and all uncleanness. 

Be assured, my brethren, that our religious acts, 
though they should extend to the outward observ- 
ance of all the ordinances of the Gospel, and the 
regular support of the whole form of godliness ; yet 



PHARISEES' RIGHTEOUSNESS. 121 

if they proceed not from a thorough change of heart, 
from our being regenerated by the Spirit of God, 
from our having become new creatures through his 
enlightening, quickening, and sanctifying influences 
on our souls, — they are, after all, but a Pharisaic 
righteousness. If we value ourselves upon them ; 
if, in comparing ourselves with others, we feel a 
self-complacency and satisfaction that we are better 
than they, in that we have performed duties neglect- 
ed by them ; if we make these duties the basis of 
our hope towards God, and conclude that since we 
have done so much for him, have taken such pains 
to serve and glorify him, He will certainly show 
us mercy, as it would be inconsistent with his jus- 
tice to withhold salvation from characters so faultless 
as ours ; — if these be our inward feelings and rea- 
sonings, we are undoubtedly on the very rock where 
the Pharisees were wrecked. Of them it is said, 
that, being ignorant of the righteousness of God, 
u they went about to establish their own," and from 
the deeds of the law, looked for justification before 
God. This was the common mistake of their 
nation, and proved the ground of their so general 
opposition to Christ and his Gospel. In that age, 
no error was deemed by the Apostles more dange- 
rous and fatal. In most of his Epistles, St. Paul 
sets himself professedly, by various arguments, to 
expose and refute it. So much indeed upon this 
subject occurs throughout the New Testament, that 
but few Christians so confessedly trust to their own 
16 



122 Pharisees' righteousness. 

righteousness, as did the Pharisees. Some variation 
has taken place in modifying the old mistake. Ma- 
ny seem to think that their own duties and virtues 
are the foundation, and that, where these fail, Christ 
will supply the breach, and his righteousness finish 
the structure. Hence their trust is divided between 
him and themselves. 

But, my brethren, this scheme has no support in 
the Gospel, and is utterly irreconcileable with the 
gospel terms of repentance and faith. True and 
evangelical repentance confesses that our secret faults 
and open transgressions are innumerable, and that 
our very best services are mingled with imperfections 
sufficient for our condemnation. Faith, weary and 
heavy laden under the consciousness of this burden 
of guilt and ill desert, joyfully receives Christ as the 
Lord, our righteousness, whose obedience alone 
avails to our justification, and procures for us all the 
treasures of mercy and grace — receives him as 
" made of God unto us, wisdom, and righteousness, 
and sanctification, and redemption." Faith is the 
bond of union between Christ and his people, by 
virtue of which they derive strength from him for 
every good work which they perform. 

Here, then, we may discern the nature and the 
principle of that righteousness, which is better than 
that of the Scribes and Pharisees. It results from 
that renovated state of mind which takes place on 
the exercise of repentance towards God, and faith in 
the Lord Jesus Christ. It is consequent upon our 



PHARISEES 5 RIGHTEOUSNESS. 123 

being created anew in Christ Jesus unto good works, 
which God has ordained that we should walk in 
them, and it is performed through him, working in 
us both to will and to do. 

These sentiments and impressions have taken 
such hold on the heart of the sincere Christian, as 
to produce a change in his habitual thoughts, tem- 
per, desires, aims, and pursuits. Old things pass 
away, and all things become new to the taste and 
relish of his mind. His affections are set on things 
above. Though he neglects not his temporal con- 
cerns, jet he regards them but with a subordinate 
view to objects incomparably more important. 
Feeling that he is not his own, that he has been 
bought with a price, he consecrates himself, body 
and soul, his worldly possessions, his time, his 
influence, his all, to the service of him by whom 
he has been redeemed ; and this, not from constraint, 
but willingly, from love, gratitude, and the pleas- 
ure which he experiences in what he believes to be 
the service of God. To him, the duties of religion 
are no longer a burden and a weariness, but his 
delight. His language is that of the Psalmist, " Oh 
how I love thy law ! How amiable are thy taber- 
nacles ! I love the habitation of thy house, and 
the place where thine honour dwelleth. I esteem 
thy precepts concerning all things to be right. I 
will run the way of thy commandments." 



124 PHARISEES' RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

By a righteousness thus prompted by love and 
gratitude, faith and hope, men become the subjects 
of Christ's kingdom on earth, and qualify them- 
selves for its enjoyment in heaven. May divine 
grace produce in us all a righteousness of this 
kind! 



1 



SERMON VII. 



PRAYER. 



ACTS ix. 11. 



And the Lord said unto him, Arise, and go into the 
street which is called Straight, and inquire in 
the house of Judas for one called Saul of Tarsus: 
for, behold, he prayeth. 

The man here called Saul of Tarsus, seems to 
have been an extraordinary person from his youth. 
He was indeed a Jew, as both his parents were 
of that nation ; and by them he had been trained up 
in the religion of his fathers. But his birth was 
among the Asiatic Greeks in the city of Tarsus, the 
capital of the neighbouring province of Cilicia. In 
the schools of this city, young Saul received the first 
rudiments of learning, and was most probably 
favoured with peculiar advantages for an early pro- 
ficiency in knowledge. Undoubtedly he became 
familiar with the learned works of the Grecian poets, 
orators, and philosophers. As he grew towards 
man's estate, he was sent from Tarsus to Jerusalem, 
there to finish his education under the celebrated 



126 PRAYER. 

Gamaliel. This man was a member of the Sanhe- 
drim, or supreme council of the Jews, and had great 
weight and authority in that assembly of the Elders. 
Such were his learning and abilities, that the " hon- 
our of the law is said to have failed with him." 
While he assisted in the national council, all the 
members hearkened to him, and his advice overruled 
their decisions. When the Apostles were first sum- 
moned before this assembly, Gamaliel appeared 
superior to passion and prejudice, and discovered 
becoming temper and moderation. But the growth 
of the new sect, and the boldness of the Apostles in 
disregarding the charge of the Elders, might have 
exasperated his spirit afterward, and induced him to 
encourage the zeal of his rash and fiery pupil. 

Saul had just completed his studies and fitted 
himself for public employments, when he conceived 
the whole hierarchy of his country to be in danger of 
being overthrown by the prevalence of Christianity. 
With all the fire of youth and genius, and all the zeal 
of a flaming bigot, he engaged in the general perse- 
cution of the Christians. Resolved on their total 
extirpation, after the murder of Stephen and many 
others of both sexes at Jerusalem, he solicited a 
commission to carry on the bloody business in foreign 
and distant cities. His learning and accomplish- 
ments had probably already procured him a consid- 
erable reputation, or we can hardly suppose that the 
Sanhedrim would so readily have committed to him 
such an important trust. He was, as the context 



PRAYER. 127 

relates, proceeding on a commission of this kind to 
Damascus, breathing out threatenings and slaughter 
against the church ; and had already approached 
nigh unto the city, when he was suddenly and mi- 
raculously arrested in his career of guilt, and con- 
verted from a furious persecutor into a firm believer, 
and a most zealous preacher and defender of the 
very faith which he had set out to destroy. The 
Lord Jesus himself condescended to meet him in the 
way, and, by a voice from heaven, to convict him of 
his dreadful mistake. Overwhelmed with astonish- 
ment and horror at this conviction, being led into 
the city, he continued three days humbling himself 
for his great wicked ness. fasting, and praying. 

At the expiration of that term, an eminent disci- 
ple in Damascus was sent, as related in the text, to 
instruct and comfort him. By a vision the Lord 
directed Ananias into what street to go, and at 
whose house to inquire for a person called " Saul 
of Tarsus," adding as a reason for his mission, and 
as what should remove all scruples from his mind, 
" for behold, he prayeth !" This is evidently men- 
tioned as an extraordinary occurrence worthy of 
particular remark, that such a character as Saul 
should be engaged in prayer, — that he, who had so 
lately breathed nothing but threatenings and slaugh- 
ter, should now breathe nothing but prayer and the 
spirit of devotion. But had Saul never prayed be- 
fore ? In times past he had been accustomed to do 
that which he considered, as praying. For he had 



128 PRAYER. 

lived a Pharisee after the strictest sect, and the 
Pharisees abounded in prayer. They prayed not 
only in the synagogues, but in the markets and in 
the corners of the streets, and were accustomed to 
make long prayers. After their manner, Saul had 
undoubtedly been in the habit of praying ; and like 
them, he probably set a high value on his prayers. 
They were all, however, performed amiss, and were 
nothing in God's account. The observation upon 
him, " behold, he prayeth," implies that, till the 
present juncture, he had never prayed in an accep- 
table manner. Heretofore he had but said his pray- 
ers ; what he now did was really praying, and had 
in it all the qualifications of devotion acceptable to 
God. 

Such prayer is the exercise of the best affections 
of our nature towards their highest and infinitely 
most worthy object. Thrown as we are on the 
stage of life, empty, impotent, dependent beings ; 
our feelings prompt us to solicit the assistance of 
that great Being, who has seen fit to give us exis- 
tence. Our thoughts are withdrawn from the 
creatures, and fixed upon the Creator. Our spirit is 
conscious of its near approach to the great Father 
of spirits, and, under a lively sense of his presence, 
greatness, and goodness, recognizes and adores his 
matchless perfections and glorious character ; grate- 
fully acknowledges its obligations to him for life, 
with all its attendant blessings and comforts ; con- 
fesses and laments its own imperfection and unwor- 



PRAYER. 



129 



thiness, fervently imploring pardon for whatever has 
been amiss in time past, and grace to amend for the 
future. Convinced of its own utter insufficiency to 
obtain or secure its own enjoyment — feeling its en- 
tire and absolute dependence upon the great Author 
of all created existence, it humbly expresses before 
him its desires for such blessings as may be suitable 
to its circumstances, and consistent with the divine 
wisdom to bestow. It refers and submits, however, 
all its requests to be granted or denied according 
to his good pleasure, still hoping in God and rejoic- 
ing in his unlimited power and goodness, as confi- 
dent that he will ultimately do more than the 
petitioner can ask or think. The tendency of such 
exercises to purify the heart, to control the passions, 
to compose and tranquillize the mind, to give a 
serene dignity and elevation to its views and hopes, 
and cause it to rest in God as its chief and supreme 
good, cannot be questioned. It produces a frame 
of mind and constitutes a general temper, in the 
highest degree fitted for happiness and self-enjoy- 
ment under all circumstances. The spirit of prayer 
is a spirit of true piety, of humility, of gratitude, of 
resignation, and of hope in God. Of course, it may 
be expected to produce an inward peace, passing the 
understanding of those by whom it has never been 
experienced. 

In the following discourse, we design to 
inquire into the nature of acceptable prayer, — a 
subject which will not be thought uninteresting, 
17 



130 PRAYER. 

when it is considered, that we ourselves, like Saul 
and the Pharisees of old, are liable to self-deception, 
and to think that we pray, when in the true import 
of the duty, we do not. The things implied in 
acceptable prayer, may be summarily comprized in 
this definition, namely, Prayer is the expression of 
the desires of a suppliant and grateful heart to God, 
in the name of Christ, for things agreeable to his 
will. In the illustration of this, it may be observed, 

First, That prayer is the expression of the 
desires of the heart. This ought to be deeply fixed 
in our minds. Proper and suitable words are to be 
used, but, with respect to the Searcher of hearts, 
they are wholly insignificant, when not accompani- 
ed with correspondent desires. The best composed 
forms of devotion, when repeated with no fixed 
attention to their meaning, are but a presumptuous 
trifling with the Almighty. We think of prayers in 
an unknown tongue as a kind of solemn mockery. 
But though we should understand the meaning of 
our words when we pretend to pray, yet, if the 
meaning of our hearts be different, our prayers are 
nothing but a pretence. They are so far from being 
a reasonable and acceptable service, that they are in 
reality an offence to God. How often and strongly 
has he expressed his displeasure at those who draw 
nigh to him with their mouths, and honour him 
with their lips, whilst their hearts are far from him ! 

If we be not on our guard and watchful over 
the workings of our hearts, we may be greatly de- 



PRAYER. 131 

ceived with respect to the nature of our devotions. 
Reason and conscience may teach us what things 
are proper and worthy to be desired ; but we may 
mistake these dictates of conscience for desires. 
Under this delusion we may pray for things which 
we know ought to be desired, though no such desire 
has place in our hearts. Our reason may be con- 
vinced that the things contained in that form of 
prayer taught us by our Saviour, ought to be desired. 
Under this conviction we may repeal the form, and 
pray, that God's "name may be hallowed," while 
at the same time no reverence and adoration may 
have place in our hearts. We may pray that his 
" kingdom may come, and his will be done on earth 
as it is in heaven ;" and at the same instant, the 
most predominant desire of our hearts may be in 
opposition to the precepts of his law and the disposals 
of his providence. We may pray that he would 
keep us from temptation, while in our hearts we 
may be forming the purpose of knowingly going 
into the way of temptation. 

The covetous and worldly may pray against the 
love of riches ; the proud and ambitious may pray 
for humility ; and the openly vicious for the refor- 
mation of their lives ; while the real desires of each 
of these characters may be in direct opposition to 
the language of their lips. How depraved and sin- 
ful must those men be, who can thus venture to 
prevaricate in their addresses to the God of truth ! 
It is possible, however, that, in many instances, they 



132 PRAYER. 

may be guilty of this, and yet remain insensible of 
their insincerity. Not distinguishing between the 
dictates of conscience and the real desires of their 
hearts, they may think that they have performed 
an acceptable service to God when they have ver- 
bally asked of him the things which they are con- 
scious ought to be desired. Instead of being prompt- 
ed by any of the feelings of true piety, they may be 
led by sinister and interested views to the expression 
of such desires in prayer. The motive of him who 
leads in social worship, may be as unworthy as was 
that of the Pharisees of old. Like them .he may 
aim at being seen of men, and at gaining a charac- 
ter for devotion. It may gratify his vanity to strike 
and captivate the audience, by showing how fluent, 
or how fervent, or how solemn he can be. 

Sincerity, my brethren, is a qualification abso- 
lutely essential to the acceptance of our prayers. 
Without this, we offer but the sacrifice of fools. 
Unless the real desires of our hearts be expressed, 
our prayers will of course be hypocritical. In what 
manner, then, are our devotions performed ? Do 
they consist of real and hearty desires, or of good 
words only ? Are you not wont to be more solici- 
tous about propriety of expression, than the pouring 
out of your heart before God! How often have 
you from memory repeated over a set of words in a 
formal way, and recorded this for a prayer, while 
your insensible heart has borne no part in the per- 
formance I Have you not been more careful to 



PRAYER. 133 

consider what you ought to pray for, than to discov- 
er and express your real desires ? If it be your 
commendable, and at this day, alas ! almost singular 
practice, daily to pray in your family and in your 
closet ; yet it may not be amiss for you to reflect, 
whether these devotions be any thing more than 
mere forms to which you have become accustomed. 
While you verbally ask God to make you holy and 
obedient to his commands, is there no sinful course 
in which you habitually indulge ? Do you not often 
pretend to thank and praise God for his great good- 
ness towards you, whilst he sees your heart to be 
void of all grateful emotions ? What numbers at 
stated seasons join in thanksgiving to Heaven for 
Christ, and the way of salvation through him, while 
they practically persist in making light of him, and 
in neglecting his salvation ! 

When we join in public worship, do we carefully 
attend to the petitions expressed, and yield our 
hearty Amen so far as they accord with our desires ? 
This is incumbent upon all who pretend to unite in 
social or public prayers. The hearts of the whole 
assembly should be joined with that of the speaker 
in the addresses which he presents to God. If, in- 
stead of thus fixing your attention, you suffer not 
only your eyes, but your thoughts to wander ; 
though others may pray, yet you do not — you present 
nothing but your body before the Lord. With how 
many of those who attend the forms of worship, is 
this usually the case ! How many are habitually 



134 PRAYER. 

thus careless and inattentive, and yet feel no con- 
sciousness of guilt on that account ! We all, indeed, 
have reason to lament that our hearts are so prone, 
like a deceitful bow, to start aside from our duty ; 
and that vain or wandering thoughts are so often 
mingled with our devotions. But when these things 
are the grief and burden of the mind, though they 
may imply its weakuess and imperfection, yet they 
are no proof of its insincerity. Amidst the occasion- 
al confusion of such intruding thoughts, there may 
be an habitual aim at the divine honour. The ut- 
most vigilance, however, ought to be used in guard- 
ing against them. You w T ould do well to spend a 
little time in serious consideration before you begin 
your address to God. Examine your heart, and 
inquire what are its true and genuine desires. Re- 
view the expressions which you are aceustomed to 
use in prayer, and compare them with your inward 
feelings. Having entered on the duty, attend to 
the import of every sentence, and speak with such 
deliberation, that your desires may accompany 
your utterance, and, if possible, prompt your express- 
ions. 

The heart of a good Christian, when warmed 
with devotion, may so abound with holy desires, as 
to quicken his utterance and give fluency to his 
language. Such fervour is not to be repressed or 
discountenanced. But whenever it is experienced, 
it is probably the effect of that serious musing which 
is here recommended. By this previous meditation, 



PRAYER. 135 

the whole soul may become engaged, and all its 
faculties devoutly and delightfully exercised in the 
duty of prayer. " Be not rash with thy mouth," 
says the wise man, " and let not thine heart be 
hasty to utter any thing before God." This is an 
express caution against a thoughtless address to 
God, or a hasty rushing into the presence of the 
greatest and best of Beings. The thought that he 
cannot be deceived and will not be mocked, should 
effectually restrain us from uttering with our lips 
what we neither feel nor wish in our hearts. 

Secondly, Prayer implies supplication, or an ex- 
pression of the supplicating desires of the heart. We 
may express real desires to God for the bestowment 
of certain blessings, and yet not pray acceptably. 
The temper and disposition of the heart are different 
under different circumstances. Those of the credi- 
tor in asking for his due, are very different from 
those of the humble beggar requesting alms. The 
one asks for that to which he feels himself justly en- 
titled ; the other for that to which he pretends no 
claim. The desires of the latter only partake of the 
nature of prayer. We do not and cannot pray for 
that which we consider as our due. We may indeed 
express our desires in the form of a prayer, but in 
our hearts we do not pray. Our desires are not of 
a suppliant nature. We feel not a supplicating, but 
a demanding temper. Praying is not demanding. 
Subjects may express their desires to their sovereign 
for their rights and privileges in the form of a pray- 



136 



PRAYER. 



er, but in heart and reality they make a demand. 
They esteem the granting of their request a matter of 
right, and not of mere grace and favour in their prince. 
Nay, while he refuses or delays, they look upon 
themselves as injured and oppressed. In their 
hearts at least, they blame and censure him as unjust. 
But the same disposition in a traitor justly condemn- 
ed for treasonable practices, would be wholly im- 
proper and unbecoming. He might deprecate the 
execution of the sentence against him, and pray for 
pardon ; but would have no ground for complaint, 
and, if properly sensible of his guilt, would not in 
his heart blame his sovereign, though his petition 
should be rejected. 

Does not prayer to God require the exercise of a 
similar temper ? When an assembly of sinful men 
stand praying, ought they not to "consider themselves 
as so many malefactors, met to implore the mercy of 
their great Judge ?" On every occasion, ought we 
no! to appear as suppliants at the throne of grace ? 
Should not our requests to God be attended with 
such a sense of our un worthiness and ill desert, as 
might dispose us to acknowledge his justice, though 
he should disregard them ? Does he not expect and 
require, that in all our approaches to him we con- 
fess ourselves to be, what we are, erring, sinful 
creatures, less than the least of his mercies ? In 
proportion as we fail of this self-abasement in the 
divine presence, will not the desires which we ex- 
press to God, in language however humble, savour 



PRAYER. 137 

more of a demanding than of a supplicating temper ? 
How then can we expect his acceptance ? "He re- 
sisteth the proud, while he gives grace to the humble." 

If our prayers in times past, my brethren, have 
not been answered, it may be that we have been 
ready to doubt whether God is a Being who regards 
or hears prayer ; whether his mercy and faithfulness 
be such as his word represents them ; in short, 
wheiher there be any profit in praying unto him. 
But before we entertain these unworthy suspicions 
of the Father of mercies, ought we not to inquire 
whether our prayers have not been deficient in this 
important qualification of humility? Have they flowed 
from a broken heart, from a humble and contrite spir- 
it ? Have they been offered up under a suitable sense 
of our own unworthiness ? Has the manner of our 
presenting them been sincere, fervent, and humble ? 
Instead of distrusting the divine promises, have we 
not greater reason to distrust our own performances, 
to doubt whether we have not asked amiss, and so 
failed of the condition upon which the promise is 
suspended ? All the blessings tendered to sinners in 
the Gospel, are represented as proceeding from free, 
unmerited grace, both in the primary offer, and in 
the ultimate bestowment. Unless they be thus 
regarded in all our requests to God for them, we 
cannot seek them aright. 

Thirdly, In acceptable prayer, the supplicating 
desires of a grateful heart are expressed. Being 
absolutely dependent upon God for all our past and 
18 



138 PRAYER. 

present enjoyments, we cannot with a suitable tem- 
per apply to him for farther blessings, if we be 
insensible of those which we have already received. 
Ingratitude for past mercies must necessarily exclude 
us from the hope of future blessings. A grateful 
sense of the infinite obligations under which he has 
laid us already, should attend every renewed appli- 
cation to God. Accordingly, St. Paul, in his direc- 
tions respecting prayer, joins with it thanksgiving — 
" in every thing by prayer and supplication with 
thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to 
God." 

Fourthly, These supplicating desires of a grate- 
ful heart, must be expressed or offered up to God 
with faith in his being and perfections. Just and 
worthy apprehensions of the infinite object to whom 
we make our address, should attend every act of 
devotion. We cannot indeed comprehend his infini- 
ty ; but we may clearly apprehend and firmly 
believe in his being and glorious perfections. In 
our approaches to him, we may cherish in our minds 
a lively sense of his presence, power, and goodness. 
We may clearly conceive and firmly believe him to 
be both able and willing to do exceedingly and 
abundantly above what we can ask or think. With 
such thoughts of him, are we not directed to make 
our approach, when we are told, that " whosoever 
cometh unto God, must believe that he is, and that 
he is a re warder of them that diligently seek him ?" 
I observe, 



PRAYER. 139 

Fifthly, That, in order to our prayers being 
acceptable to God, they must be for things agreea- 
ble to his will. Of this kind are all spiritual and 
eternal blessings, all the means of moral improve- 
ment in this life, and of everlasting happiness in the 
next. For these, our desires cannot be too strong, 
nor rise too high ; nor can we be too fervent or 
importunate in pouring out these desires to God. 
But with respect to temporal blessings, as we know 
not what will be upon the whole good for us, we 
must set bounds to our desires. While we are 
allowed to petition for whatever may be necessary to 
our comfortable subsistence, we are cautioned 
against coveting the great things of life, or those 
objects of pride and luxury, which vanity, custom, 
or a disorderly fancy may seem to have made neces- 
sary to us. We may pray conditionally for that 
which in our view may seem most desirable ; at the 
same time acknowledging our ignorance, and refer- 
ring all our requests to the wisdom and goodness of 
our heavenly Father, to grant or deny them as he 
sees will be most for his glory and our best good, 
holding ourselves in readiness to acquiesce in what- 
ever he shall appoint. I add, 

In the sixth, and last place, as what the Gospel 
teaches to be an important qualification in our prayers. 
That they be presented to God in the name of Christ, 
with a humble dependence on his merits and inter- 
cession as the ground of their acceptance. We are 
taught to view his mediation as the channel through 



140 PRAYER. 

which all the streams of the divine mercy and good- 
ness are conveyed to apostate men, as the procuring 
cause of all our present enjoyments and future hopes; 
and his intercession as that alone which can render 
our prayers successful, or our persons acceptable to 
God. In all our approaches to the throne of grace 
we are to remember, that through Christ alone we 
are allowed access to God, and that he is the medi- 
um of our whole intercourse with the Father. Ev- 
ery act of devotion and religious service must be 
offered in the name of the Lord Jesus, in imitation 
of his example, in obedience to his authority, and 
in reliance on his intercession for its acceptance 
with God. 

I have now, my hearers, endeavoured in several 
particulars to explain to you what I apprehend to 
be the nature of acceptable prayer. Our obligations 
to this duty must appear, when we consider how 
reasonable and suitable it is to all our ideas of moral 
fitness, that creatures, in themselves ignorant, weak, 
and dependent, should, with humble prostration, 
adore the self-sufficient and all-sufficient Creator ; 
thanking him for his innumerable benefits daily 
received, and supplicating the bestowment of those 
which they still need. What though the omniscient 
Being knows our wants already, and can receive no 
information from us ? What though, being infinite 
in goodness, he will do that which is upon the whole 
best, without our entreaty or persuasion ? Still these 
concessions do not supersede the use and reasona- 



PRAYER. 141 

bleness of prayer. This duty is not intended to 
produce its effects upon God, but upon ourselves. 
It is not designed to inform him of any thing with 
which he was before unacquainted, nor to move him 
to that to which he is indisposed. But on our own 
minds, its influence will be great and beneficial, 
impressing them with a sense of our wants and of 
our dependence upon the divine bounty for their 
supply, and in this way bringing us into a suitable 
frame for receiving what God may see fit to give. 

Indeed, we cannot conceive of a greater privilege 
indulged to sinful mortals, than the liberty of access to 
the throne of grace ; and none who are truly religious, 
can neglect a duty enjoined by so many precepts and 
examples in the word of God. Serious minds are 
drawn to the regular observance of it by the love of 
God shed abroad in their hearts, and by the pleasure 
which they experience in devotional exercises. But 
there is no end to the excuses which undevout minds 
will frame for the neglect of a duty which they have 
no heart to perform. At the present day, indeed, it 
is so difficult to persuade people in general to say, 
or even read their prayers, that there seems little 
hope of success in any attempts to engage them in 
the true spirit of devotion. It is incumbent, how- 
ever, on the minister of religion, to inculcate this, as 
well as the other duties of Christianity. 

With those who live without prayer, the fear of 
God's displeasure is the motive the most likely to 
have influence. Are there any so hardy as to 



142 



PRAYER. 



disregard or resist this motive ? Are there any, 
who will still cast off fear and restrain prayer ? It 
must be because they are utterly thoughtless, and 
consider not what a Being God is. Open your 
eyes, I beseech you, upon his works in every direc- 
tion around you. Look up to the heavens, " the 
spacious firmament on high." Consider the sun, 
that immense globe of fire, whose splendor over- 
spreads the hemisphere with light. Observe the 
milder lustre and the serene majesty of the moon, 
ruling the night. Let worlds on worlds be present- 
ed to your imagination in the hosts of stars gilding 
the celestial arch. Think of the rapidity and yet 
perfect regularity of their motions, through the lapse 
of ages, from the beginning of time. From these 
celestial heights, descend in your thoughts to this 
earth, swarming with inhabitants, and yet made to 
furnish regular supplies for all, satisfying the desires 
of every living thing. Mark the rotation of the 
seasons, and the vicissitudes of day and night. Last- 
ly, think of yourselves, lately called into existence, 
and endued with minds capable of reasoning upon 
all these objects, and of discerning their relation as 
effects to their almighty, all-wise, and all-beneficent 
Cause and Author. Think of yourselves as admit- 
ted into this material universe, as into a vast temple, 
whose every part, as well as whole frame and 
structure, bespeaks the majesty and glory of the 
builder. Are you not awed by such a scene of 
wonders ? In the view of them, does not your very 



# « PRAYER. 143 

nature prompt you to reverence and adore this great 
Creator ? Knowing that it is in him you live and 
move, that in his hand your breath is, and that his 
are all your ways, shall not his dread fall upon you ? 
Will you not fear him, at whose rebuke " the earth 
trembleth, and the mountains flee away ?" Knowing 
his will, is it conceivable that his rational creatures 
should venture to disregard his authority in any one 
of his commands? Must not his fear compel them 
to obey ? 

In cases of sudden and extreme danger, all men 
fly to God and implore his protection. Under such 
circumstances, nature forces men to think of God 
and seek to him. The most hardened despiser of 
prayer during the days of health and ease, is no 
sooner attacked by a painful and threatening illness, 
than he begins to pray, and even to solicit the 
prayers of others for him. Can you stand by the dy- 
ing bed of a beloved relation or friend, — can you see 
him beyond all human aid, sinking into the grave, 
into eternity, and not lift up your soul to God on his 
behalf? And when you yourselves shall be in this 
situation, as you certainly will be, and may be very 
soon, — when all hope of life is gone, will you not 
then most fervently pray to that great Being, who 
has in his hand the diposal of your lot for eternity ? 

But, if you persist in the neglect of prayer through 
life, or while you enjoy health and prosperity ; and 
at last, in a time of trouble or at the hour of death, 
have recourse to it as a refuge when every other 



144 PRAYER. , 

refuge is shut against you, can you rationally hope 
that such forced devotion will prove successful ? 
There is an alarming and awful passage of Scripture, 
which I leave with you for your serious considera- 
tion. "Because I have called, and ye refused ; I 
have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded ; 
but ye have set at nought all my counsel, and 
would none of my reproof; I also will laugh at your 
calamity ; I will mock when your fear cometh ; 
when your fear cometh as desolation, and your 
destruction as a whirlwind ; when distress and an- 
guish cometh upon you. Then shall they call upon 
me, but I will not answer ; they shall seek me early, 
but they shall not find me." 



SERMON VIII. 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 



ROMANS x. 10. 



For with the heart, man believeth unto righteousness ; 
and with the mouth, confession is made unto 
salvation. 

In the verse immediately preceding, the terms of 
the gospel salvation are thus explicitly stated, " If 
thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, 
and shalt believe in thine heart, that God hath raised 
him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.'' As ex- 
planatory of th ; s method of salvation, the words of 
the text are added, "for with the heart man believ- 
eth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confess- 
ion is made unto salvation." The full meaning of 
the text will be unfolded and brought into view, by 
ascertaining the import, 

First, Of " believing with the heart unto right- 
ness ;" and then of '*' making with the mouth con- 
fession," or a profession of this faith, " unto salva- 
tion." 

19 



146 PROFESSING RELIGION. 

Our first inquiry is into the import of " believing 
with the heart unto righteousness." This comprises 
faith both in its objects and exercises. Its objects, 
or the things to be believed, are the truths revealed 
in the word of God. Many of these are dis- 
coverable by our own reason, contemplating the 
works of God, and reflecting upon them. The 
invisible things of him, even his eternal power and 
godhead are clearly seen, being understood or easily 
inferred from the things which he has made. The 
heavens declare his glory, the earth is full of his 
riches. We cannot open our eyes upon these his 
works, without beholding convincing proofs of his 
being, power, wisdom, and goodness ; nor without 
witnessing the constant and universal agency of his 
providence ; nor without from thence discerning our 
dependence upon and relation to him as his crea- 
tures, and in this way learning some of the duties 
and obligations resulting both from our relation to 
Him, and to one another, as partakers of one com- 
mon nature. But these truths of natural religion 
are, by revelation, vastly extended and rendered 
more clear and convincing ; and to them are added 
innumerable other truths, far surpassing the powers 
of human reason to discover. 

From the word of God, we learn the history of 
the creation, of man, of his first or primeval state* 
of that into which he fell by transgression, the con- 
sequences of his fall, the mediatorial scheme devised 
for his recovery, its gradual developement from the 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 147 

first promise of a Saviour, down to the period of his 
incarnation ; his birth, life, doctrines, and miracles ; his 
death, resurrection, ascension, and session at the right 
hand of God as our advocate, pleading the atonement 
of his blood for the remission of our sins, his perfect 
righteousness for our justification, and the mission 
of the Holy Spirit to accompany the ministration of 
the Gospel for our conviction, conversion, and pro- 
gressive sanctification, till we shall be made meet 
finally to be glorified together with him at the gen- 
eral resurrection. All the minor doctrines of the 
Gospel, connected with these its great leading prin- 
ciples, are among the objects of faith or the things 
to be believed. Some competent knowledge of these 
truths, of the general system of the Gospel, is a pre- 
requisite to faith. For how can we believe truths 
of which we are ignorant ? They must be appre- 
hended by the understanding, in order to their having 
the consent of the will, the approbation of the judg- 
ment, and the love of the heart. Each of these is 
implied in their being " believed with the heart." 
If they present themselves to us, claiming the 
authority of revelation, we call for the proofs of 
this authority. These proofs may be valid and 
sufficient, amply sufficient for the satisfaction of 
impartial and unbiassed minds ; and yet fail of 
making any impression on minds preoccupied with 
the love of the world, and under bondage to divers 
lusts. An eye sound and healthy, easily distinguish- 
es the objects presented to its vision, while no 



148 PROFESSING RELIGION. 

optics will render those objects discernible by an eye 
diseased and covered with a film. The intellectual 
eye is dimmed and blinded by moral disease, by the 
corrupt propensities of the heart. The clearest and 
strongest evidence fails of attracting the attention of 
the careless, and of convincing the understanding of 
the prejudiced. Every day's experience shows us 
how backward and slow of heart men are to believe 
against their prepossessions, or in opposition to 
their interest or wishes ; and this, whatever the 
subject may be, as well in religion as in politics, and 
even in matters of mere speculation. How often 
have w r e occasion to remark that facts, stubborn as 
they are in themselves, are found to be nothing 
when opposed to the march of party-spirit, and the 
highest probability to be less than nothing when 
standing in the way of passion or prejudice ? All 
men, so far as they are sinners, and in proportion to 
the strength of sin in their hearts, are prejudiced 
against the religion of Christ, against both its doc- 
trines and precepts. 

As the great aim of this religion is, to turn them 
from sin to holiness, from the service of their lusts 
to that of God, it directly encounters all their de- 
praved propensities, all the bulwarks of the world, 
the flesh, and the devil, within them. Its first and 
immediate demand upon them is, to deny themselves, 
to renounce their selfish views and desires, all their 
sinful indulgences, every habit of vice, every irreg- 
ular affection, their pride, avarice, ambition, and 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 149 

inordinate love of the world ; and, with broken and 
contrite hearts for their past alienation from God, to 
return to him as their chief and supreme good, and 
to serve him in newness of life — consecrating their 
whole selves to him for time and eternity, walking 
in all his ordinances and commandments blameless, 
and persevering in this course, growing in grace, 
pressing on towards perfection to the end of their 
lives ; — all this, in hope of the mercy of God through 
Jesus Christ unto life eternal in a future world. 
Compliance with these requisitions is the import of 
" believing with the heart." But what degree of 
evidence or of light exhibited to the understanding, 
will be sufficient to produce so great and thorough 
a change in the dispositions, views, affections, and 
pursuits of sinful men ? In proportion as they love 
the works of darkness, they hate heavenly light, and 
shut their eyes against its beams. In some happy 
instances, however, the change mentioned is produc- 
ed ; but we are taught to believe, that, in each of 
those instances, it is effected by the Spirit of God 
co-operating with his word. When " faith comes 
by hearing," the Lord opens the heart of the hear- 
er, as he did that of Lyclia, to receive and obey the 
truth. No force of reasoning, no strains of elo- 
quence, no arts of persuasion will prove thus effec- 
tual, unless accompanied with a divine influence. 
Paul may plant, and Apollos water ; but all will be 
in vain, unless it shall please God to give the increase. 
Faith, both in its principle and fruits, is his gift, and 



150 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 



is so acknowledged by as many as believe to the 
saving of their souls. When they thus differ from 
the impenitent and unbelieving world, from those 
who despise, wonder, and perish, or who make light 
of the gospel offers, — they owe the distinction to 
free, sovereign grace. 

For this reason, all who desire or hope for salva- 
tion, while they earnestly seek the knowledge of 
God and his will, daily search and study his word, 
attend to its proofs and acquaint themselves with its 
contents, the things to be believed, — are directed to 
look, with supplicating eyes, to the great "Author 
and Finisher of faith," by his spirit to work this grace 
in their hearts ; — its principle, at first ; and so to in- 
crease and strengthen it afterward, that it may 
become the governing spring of their lives. Their 
daily and most fervent prayer should be, " Lord, we 
believe," or we desire to believe, " help thou our 
unbelief !" Perseverance in such a course of earnest 
seeking and praj/ing never fails of issuing in that 
faith which is " unto righteousness," that is, unto 
justification ; for this is understood to be the mean- 
ing of believing unto righteousness. A true evan- 
gelical faith unites the soul to Christ, and, according 
to the tenor of the covenant of grace, entitles it to share 
in the reward of his righteousness or in the benefits 
of his purchase, acquittance from condemnation 
through his atoning blood, and acceptance with God 
on account of his merits. Thus it is, that we pass 
from death unto life, from a state of sin and condem- 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 151 

nation into a state of grace, and become heirs to life 
eternal. 

But in order to the actual enjoyment of the 
promised inheritance, the second branch of the text 
teaches us the necessity of an explicit profession of 
our faith. " With the mouth, confession is made 
unto salvation." Into a world lying in ignorance 
and wickedness, and in danger of utter perdition, 
the infinite mercy of God has sent the religion of the 
Gospel to enlighten, reform, and save it. This 
unspeakable gift bears upon its face, the inscription, 
" peace on earth — good will to men ;" an attestation 
from God that he wills all men to be saved, by 
receiving and obeying this religion. As many as do 
in their hearts receive and believe it, are required, 
according to their respective places, stations, oppor- 
tunities, and abilities, to forward its progress by 
giving the utmost extent to the diffusion of its light, 
and the utmost effect to its authority and influence. 
Its establishment on earth and public profession 
among men, are intended as a testimony to all na- 
tions. Its professors are called the salt of the earth, 
with reference to their diffusing its savoury influence. 
They are also represented as a portion of leaven, 
appointed for the leavening of the whole lump or 
mass of their fellow-men ; and as the light of the 
world, for spreading in every direction its cheering 
and vivifying beams. The church of Christ, com- 
posed of these professors, is "a city built upon a hill," 
that it rnay, on all quarters under the four winds of 



152 PROFESSING RELIGION. 

heaven, attract the notice and guide the steps of 
hapless, bewildered wanderers into the way of life. 
These being the declared views of the author 
and founder of our religion, jou will consider, my 
hearers, whether secrecy and concealment be con- 
sistent with them, whether it can be lawful or excus- 
able in any to dissemble their faith, or keep it close 
to themselves ; — whether they may be permitted to 
put their light under a bushel, or to forbear declar- 
ing themselves on the side of that Saviour, in whom 
is all their trust for salvation. From the beginning, 
his cause has had many enemies, and has been, and 
still is, struggling against manifold obstacles. All 
the hearers of the Gospel are called, this whole 
assembly and each individual in it, openly to come 
forward to its support, lending it all the aid in their 
power. Will you, my hearers, shrink from this call ? 
will you ask to be excused ? will you urge other 
engagements ? will you answer, " I have bought a 
piece of ground, and must needs go and see it ; or 
five yoke of oxen, and I go to prove them ?" To 
the multitudes who attended upon Christ's ministry 
when he was here on earth, he explicitly declared, 
" he that is not with me," openly and perseveringly, 
" is against me," and must expect to be regarded 
and treated as an enemy. You are aware that, at 
the time referred to, none could be openly for 
fiim without the danger, not only of being put out 
of the synagogue and losing their respectability in 
society, but of forfeiting their estates and even their 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 153 

lives. At all these risks, however, they were re- 
quired courageously and undauntedly to confess 
him ; and this, as the condition of their being con- 
fessed and acknowledged by him in the presence of 
his Father at the last day. Nay, he added, and 
seems often to have repeated the declaration, at 
least, it is repeated three or four times in the gospels, 
" Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of my 
words, in this adulterous and sinful generation; of him 
also shall the son of man h& ashamed, when he 
cometh in the glory of his Father, with the holy 
angels." An awful stress is here laid upon our being 
above the love of popular esteem, and above the 
dread of public shame in our attachment to Christ 
and his religion. His denunciation ought to have 
alarmed those chief rulers, of whom it is said, " they 
believed on him, but, because of the Pharisees, did 
not confess him." Nor is it conceivable how any 
at this day can feel secure and satisfied of their 
safety, while, from any motives or under any pre- 
tences, they live in the neglect of a christian 
profession. If this neglect be occasioned by 
a feeling of indifference toward religion, or an 
habitual aversion to its duties, or a reluctance 
to part with their vices, to forego their sinful 
indulgences, or because they choose not to bind 
themselves to an exemplary and holy method 
of living, — must it not be, in itself, more culpable, 
and deserving of an heavier condemnation, than was 
that of those persons, who, in our Saviour's time, 
20 



154 PROFESSING RELIGION. 

kept their convictions to themselves through fear of 
the scorn and derision of their neighbours, or of the 
frowns and censures of their priests and rulers ? 

To all and every one who has an inward persua- 
sion of the truth of the Gospel, Christ, by his word, 
now says, as with his own lips he did say, when he 
was here on earth, " Come unto me — take my yoke 
upon you," enter yourselves among my visible 
followers ; assume my name and announce your- 
selves to be Christians. Go, tell the world that you 
are not ashamed either of me, or of my service, of 
my doctrines, or of my precepts. In the face both 
of my friends and enemies, declare your allegiance 
as the loyal and faithful subjects of my kingdom, as 
soldiers enlisted under my banners, ready, and deter- 
mined at every hazard to abide faithful. Think not 
of the reproaches, nor yet of the temporal losses 
and dangers, which may be occasioned by such a 
profession. Formidable as these may seem, leave it 
with me to support and defend you, or ultimately to 
compensate whatever your fidelity to me may cost you. 
Let a display of this fidelity be your only concern. 
" Sanctify the Lord God in your hearts," and, 
instead of affecting a kind of neutrality, instead of 
smothering your sentiments, hiding or disguising 
your belief — " be ready" always " to give an answer 
to every man who asketh you a reason for the hope 
w r hich is in you." 

To this openness, this fortitude, this magnanim- 
ity in the cause of Christ, ought not the authority 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 155 

of his command to be a sufficient motive ? Though 
we were wholly ignorant of the reasons for the 
command, yet should we not feel our obligations to 
obey ? But if we consider the nature of his relig- 
ion and our own nature as social beings, whose 
opinions, counsels, and examples are reciprocally 
influential ; we cannot avoid discerning the reason- 
ableness and importance of our taking an open and 
decided part in a cause so greatly and universally 
interesting. It is necessary to our own sincerity, to 
the honour of religion, and the general good of our 
fellow-men. Upon all subjects of general interest, 
we are accustomed to associate, in order that our 
combined efforts may more effectually promote the 
common weal. The success of every scheme for 
meliorating the condition of the public, correcting 
its opinions, reforming its manners, increasing its 
advantages, or securing its privileges — greatly de- 
pends upon the number, talents, and exertions of 
those who appear as the open and avowed advocates 
of the proposed reform. How could the revolution 
in favour of the liberties and independence of these 
United States have been effected, if each individual 
patriot, consulting his own personal ease and safety, 
had confined to his own bosom his patriotic opin- 
ions without daring to divulge them ? How could 
the Protestant reformation from Popery have been 
brought about, if Luther, Calvin, and the other 
great reformers had not boldly come forward to that 
most hazardous, though glorious work ? Nay, how 



156 PROFESSING RELIGION. 

could the religion of Christ at first have been prop- 
agated in the world and spread among the nations, 
if his Apostles had declined the commission tender- 
ed them on account of the foreseen difficulties and 
dangers, persecutions and distresses, unavoidably 
attending its execution ? 

My brethren, something of the same spirit dis- 
played by them and the first Christians, is essential 
to the character of sincere Christians at all times. 
If we hope that the age of persecution has passed by, 
yet through every age the followers of Christ are 
forbidden a conformity to the course and fashion 
of the present evil world. By their whole de- 
portment, they are to show that they are not " of 
the world," however much the world may hate 
them on that account. In imitation of their divine 
Master, it is incumbent upon them sternly to oppose 
the evil customs, the false maxims, the errors and vices 
of the times in which they live, stemming the tor- 
rent of general corruption, and holding forth to their 
contemporaries alluring examples of piety, benevo- 
lence, and weanedness from the world. In " mak- 
ing confession unto salvation," it is expected of them 
that they be seen walking as Christ walked, regular 
attendants upon each of his institutions, and con- 
scientious observers of whatsoever things he has 
enjoined. 

Admitting, my friends, that you customarily 
attend on the forms of public worship, its prayers, 
praises, and the ministry of the word ; so far it is 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 157 

well. But is it your intention in doing these things 
that it should be understood that you are real Chris- 
tians, under all the bonds of the christian covenant ? 
Such a thought, perhaps, never entered your hearts. 
The Apostles preached to mixed assemblies, com- 
posed of Jews and Heathens. At the present day, 
the doors of the sanctuary are open for the reception 
of persons of all characters, whatever motives may 
bring them together. The ministers of Christ are 
glad of every opportunity for making known his 
gospel, and publishing its offers ; but when any are 
persuaded in their hearts to receive and believe it, 
they are expected to make a public profession of 
their faith, and to seal this profession by washing 
with water in baptism, and by commemorating the 
death of their Saviour at his table. In this way 
were the primitive converts introduced, and made 
visible members of Christ's church. Neither he nor 
his Apostles acknowledged any as members, till 
they first openly acknowledged their faith in him. 
When the eunuch asked, " what doth hinder me to 
be baptized ?" the answer was, u thou mayest, if 
thou belie vest with all thine heart." On his mak- 
ing this declaration, he was admitted to the ordi- 
nance. 

All who received baptism in adult age, after the 
resurrection of Christ, united in the commemoration 
of his death. We have no example in Scripture of 
the neglect of this latter ordinance by any who had 
received the first. In every place, as many as 



158 PROFESSING RELIGION. 

believed, hastened to profess their faith, and to form 
a church for the due celebration of all the gospel ordi- 
nances. The regulations for constituting christian 
societies, at first established by Christ and his Apos- 
tles, may not be set aside or disregarded. While we 
steadily observe the stated seasons for personal and 
family devotion and instruction in our own houses, 
we may not be less exemplary in our attendance 
upon the order and ordinances of God's house. If 
this be forsaken, what is called a pillar and ground 
for the support of the christian system, may be con- 
sidered as giving way and sinking into ruin. When 
they who are called Christians, become remiss and 
negligent in assembling themselves together for 
christian worship and edification, the face of Chris- 
tianity is evidently fading away. But besides the 
performance of religious duties, our profession must 
be supported by a correspondent practice, by a tem- 
per and conduct conformed to the example and 
precepts of Christ. If it be not thus supported, 
evidenced, and shown to be real and sincere, it may 
be nothing, and worse than nothing. It is by an 
holy life, by the steady practice of all the christian 
virtues, that we are to cause our light to shine before 
others, bring honour to that holy name by which we 
are called, and contribute our part to the extending 
of the influence of his religion. Our example can- 
not fail of benefiting our immediate connexions, our 
families, children, relations, neighbours, acquaintance, 
indeed, all who have the opportunity of witnessing 



PROFESSING RELIGION. 159 

how holily, righteously, and unblamably we pass 
the time of our sojourning here. Who knows to 
what an extent, or through what a length of dura- 
tion, the happy effects of such examples may reach ? 
May divine grace render us all earnest and fervent 
thus with our lives, as well as with our mouth, to 
make confession unto the salvation, both of ourselves 
and others, exhibiting us as leaders in the way to 
heavenly felicity ! 



SERMON IX. 



UNION IN CHRIST. 



1 CORINTHIANS, xii. 27. 



Now ye are the body of Christ, and members in par- 
ticular. 

Among the disorders and irregularities in the 
church at Corinth, which this epistle was designed 
to correct, were the prevalence of a party-spirit, and 
the mutual prejudices and animosities which it had 
produced. Notwithstanding the rich variety of gifts 
and graces with which this church was distinguish- 
ed, parties and factions soon sprung up, divisions and 
contentions soon took place. The ^ground from 
which these disquietudes originated, seems to have 
been the persons, abilities, and gifts of the different 
teachers and ministers who came among them. 
These they set up as heads of parties, and indulged 

*This discourse was delivered at Maiden, Nov. 2d, 1794, on a Fast 
appointed for the purpose of seeking the Divine direction in the choice 
of a minister. It was afterwards preached in other places, with the omis- 
sion of that part which immediately related to the abovementioned oc- 



UNION IN CHRIST. 161 

their mutual prejudices, in unreasonably extolling 
one and depreciating another. With great concern 
St. Paul heard the tidings of these divisions, and, in 
the first chapter of this epistle, thus tenderly expos- 
tulates with them. " Now, I beseech you, brethren, 
by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that ye all 
speak the same thing, and that there be no divisions 
among you ; but that ye be perfectly joined together 
in the same mind, and in the same judgment. For 
it hath been declared unto me of you, my brethren, 
by them which are of the house of Chloe, that there 
are contentions among you ;~ every one of you saith, 
I am of Paul, and I of Apollos, and I of Cephas, 
and I of Christ." This use of party names and 
distinctions, is pronounced a mark of their carnality, 
and of their being under the influence of strong and 
sinful prejudices; "ye are yet carnal ; for whereas 
there is among you envying, and strife, and divisions, 
are ye not carnal, and walk as men ?" that is, as 
unregenerate men, and not as Christians who have 
been taught and sanctified by that spirit, whose fruits 
are directly opposite to those works of the flesh. 
For while one saith, I am for this teacher, and 
another, I am for that, " are ye not carnal ?" Aware 
of their having been betrayed into these divisions by 
their fondness for the eloquence and philosophy of 
their schools, and the more shining accomplishments 
of their different teachers, the Apostle reminds them 
of the little stress which ought to be laid upon these 
things, and that God often chooses and succeeds 
21 



162 UNIOJN US' CHRIST. 

ministers wholly destitute of all the graces of elo- 
quence, and all the qualifications of worldly wisdom, 
thereby pouring contempt upon natural genius and 
abilities and human science, upon the learned. scribe 
as well as the ostentatious " disputer of this world." 
He brings to their recollection the manner of his 
own preaching, when he first made known to them 
the gospel of Christ. " And I, brethren, when I 
came to you, came not with the excellency of speech, 
or of wisdom — my speech and my preaching was 
not with enticing words of men's wisdom." It con- 
sisted not in the lovely song of a fine address, or in 
the pomp of language and laboured charms of elo- 
quence, " but in demonstration of the spirit and of 
power ; that your faith should not stand in the wis- 
dom of men, but in the power of God." 

Further to convince them of the unreasonable- 
ness of their introducing party names and distinc- 
tions, and setting up and contending for one chris- 
tian minister in opposition to another, the Apostle 
says, " who then is Paul, and who is Apollos, but 
ministers by whom ye believed, even as the Lord 
gave to every man ? I have planted, Apollos water- 
ed ; but God gave the increase. So then, neither 
is he that planteth any thing, neither he that water- 
ed] ; but God that giveth the increase." The whole 
success is from above : how highly soever you may 
think of them, yet the ministers of Christ look upon 
themselves as nothing, or at most but us instruments 
in Cod's hand ; and the height of their ambition is to 



UNION IN CHRIST. 1&3 

be workers together with him. How absurd, then, is 
your zeal for one in opposition to another, your 
applause of one and slight and contempt of another, 
who is yet engaged in the same cause. For " he 
that planteth, and he that watereth are one." They 
are perfectly agreed in their, views and attempts, 
having no separate aims ; but are united in forward- 
ing with their utmost abilities one interest and de- 
sign, — co-operating with God in promoting your 
salvation. '.' For we are labourers together with 
God ; ye are God's husbandry, ye are God's tem- 
ple." By these comparisons, the unity of design 
carried on by all the friends of the Gospel is suggest- 
ed. As in husbandry, many different operations 
conspire to the same end, namely, the increase of the 
field ; and as in building, many hands are employed 
and different kinds of work are requisite in setting 
up and finishing an edifice ; so in the church of 
Christ, in building the temple of the Lord, a diver- 
sity of operations, gifts, and talents are subservient 
to the same general design, and all in their respective 
places either necessary or useful. This idea is 
yet more strongly inculcated in the chapter which 
contains the text, where, by an allusion to the human 
body, Christians are urged to a mutual affection, 
sympathy, and tender care for one another. Among 
them, envy and strife, or mutual indifference and 
contempt, are represented as unnatural and mon- 
strous, as it would be for the members of the human 
body to lose all sympathy and concern for each 



164 UNION IN CHRIST. 

other, and become at variance one with another. 
We have here a striking description of the wisdom 
and goodness of God, in so forming our body, that 
all its several parts conspire to one whole, and its 
various members and organs are so useful and ne- 
cessary, that the most noble and important cannot 
look upon the meanest as redundant, being all so 
adjusted, that each one rejoices in its own situation, 
and in the addition and situation of all its fellow 
members, having one common interest and a mutual 
sympathy pervading the whole. Nor can there be 
the least alteration for the better in this construc- 
tion of the body. Were the higher and more 
noble members to be depressed, or those in the 
lowest place to be exalled, the order, beauty, and 
usefulness of the whole would be deranged and 
rendered burdensome and monstrous. Having en- 
larged through a considerable part of the chapter 
upon this allegory, the Apostle in the text applies 
it to the purpose for which it had been introduced. 
" Now ye are the body of Christ, and members in 
particular," that is, each and all of you are so many 
individual members of the one mystical body of 
Christ, consisting of all true believers. The head 
is Christ himself; and as, in the human body, all 
the members are connected with the head, and are 
under its influence and control, by means of nerves, 
which, originating from the brain, branch forth into 
every part and organ, even into all the extremities, 
and are the channels of constant communication 



UNION IN CHRIST. 165 

and intercourse between the head and members; 
so all the members of Christ are connected with him 
by a participation of his spirit, and a cordial subjec- 
tion to his influence and control. 

Of these members, the most honourable and 
important, as we are told in the verse following the 
text, are " first apostles, secondly prophets, thirdly 
teachers," and after these, they who, in the first 
ages of the church, were occasionally furnished w 7 ith 
miraculous powers for healing diseases, distributing 
alms, preserving order and government, and speaking 
in divers tongues. Like the eyes, ears, hands, and 
feet in the natural body, these several offices and 
gifts were designed for the benefit of the church in 
general. Nor could each member equally share in 
them all without disorder and confusion. The 
most inferior members, however, by virtue of their 
relation to the body in general, would of course be 
benefited by them. In the advantages and privi- 
leges of the whole, each individual partakes. Every 
believer has reason to rejoice in the blessings and 
privileges of Christ's body, through the successive 
ages of the world. That part of the church which 
is already triumphant in heaven, and that which is 
still militant on earth, do both make but one body. 
Believers on earth are represented as belonging to 
the same community with the " general assembly in 
heaven." All among our fellow men on earth, who 
profess their subjection to the Gospel, acknowledg- 
ing one body, one spirit, one hope of their calling, 



166 



UNION IN CHRIST 



one Mediator, one faith, one baptism, one God and 
Father of all — and whose lives and conversation do 
not contradict their profession — all who thus hold to 
these fundamentals of the Gospel, are to be received 
and treated by us as members of the same body with 
ourselves. Nor may they be excluded from our 
charity, though their sentiments upon each of the 
topics now mentioned should be different from our 
own. The injunction, " let every man be fully per- 
suaded in his own mind," clearly implies the right 
of private judgment, and that there may be, in consis- 
tency with a gospel sincerity, different persuasions 
among sincere Christians. To brotherly love and 
unity of spirit in the bond of peace, unity of opin- 
ion is by no means essential. It is the office of 
christian charity to condescend to the infirmities of 
the weak, to allow for the prejudices of education, 
to think candidly of those who differ from ourselves, 
and to extend to others the privilege which we claim* 
for ourselves, that of governing our profession and 
practice, by our own and not another's conscience. 
Considering that we have all sinned, and must 
perish unless saved by the mere grace of God, is not 
our presumption wonderful in pretending that his 
grace must be limited to those who chance to see 
with our eyes, and comply with his revealed condi- 
tions as explained by us ? What are we, guilty 
worms of the dust, that we should dare thus to in- 
terpose our judgment between God and our fellow 
Christians ? By adopting such sentiments, we are 



UNION IN CHRIST. 



167 



naturally led to conclude that we ourselves are cer- 
tainly in the narrow way of salvation, while all who 
differ from us on points which we deem essential, are 
as certainly in the way to perdition ; and though we 
may pretend compassion for their souls, yet the 
thought will be always uppermost in our minds, that 
we are the reconciled friends of God, while they con- 
tinue hostile towards him ; we, his adopted children, 
while they remain the children of the wicked one, 
from whom it becomes us to stand aloof and be sep- 
arate — our tender consciences holding us back from 
all Christian friendship and fellowship with them. 
Believe it, my friends, this is the true sectarian 
spirit, which has, by turns, marked the character of 
catholics and protestants of almost every description ; 
but it is not the spirit of Christ, nor of the Gospel ol 
Christ. Its pride and bigotry show it to be most 
opposite to that gospel humility and charity which 
form the christian temper, — a temper that " vaunteth 
not itself, is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, 
thinketh no evil, beareth all things, believeth all 
things, hopeth all things, endureth all things." If we 
can believe the Apostle, these are the genuine fruits 
of the Spirit. The sectarian spirit against which I 
am speaking, originated the whole mass of church 
establishments, hierarchies, canons, creeds, confess- 
ions — all mere human inventions, wood, hay, and 
stubble ; nay, worse, so many vile shackles wickedly 
imposed upon the understandings and consciences of 
men. The consequences have been, the divisions 



168 



UNION IN CHRIST. 



and animosities by which the Church of Christ has 
been torn and rent asunder, through each succeeding 
age down to the present times. 

" To extend or deny our charity to others, ac- 
cording as they admit or reject our construction of 
the Scriptures, is no mark that we are impartial 
inquirers after truth. Christians may have respect- 
ful sentiments of each other, and have fellowship 
with one another, as having obtained like precious 
faith ; they may love as brethren, and unite their 
endeavours for the advancement of the cause of 
their common Lord : they may be agreed in the 
vital parts of religion, consistently with great variety 
of opinion in regard to the form, and in the explica- 
tion of some doctrinal points." In a word, all and 
every one among all the different sects and denom- 
inations throughout Christendom, who acknowledge 
Christ the Head, and appear to reverence his 
authority, and to be under the influence of his spirit, 
are undoubtedly to be considered and treated as his 
members, and as belonging to his mystical body. 
Among these there should be the constant exercise 
of mutual love and sympathy — as being members of 
one body. 

But I pass on to show why the church is in the 
text called the body of Christ, or hi what sense it is 
so. On various accounts, and in many different 
views, it appears to be peculiarly his ; — his by pur- 
chase ; for " He hath bought the church with his 
own blood." He consented u to be made a curse 



UNION IN CHRIST. 169 

for us, that he might free us from the curse of the 
law/' and reconcile us unto God by his cross. 
Thus he loved the church, and gave himself for it — 
washing us from our sins in his own blood, and 
purifying unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of 
good works. Are its members freed from the con- 
demnatory sentence of the law, and restored to a 
state of acceptance with God ? It is through Christ, 
who is the end of the law for righteousness to them 
who believe. Are their sins blotted out ? It is for 
his sake, who has put away sin by the sacrifice of 
himself. Are they delivered from spiritual bondage, 
and rescued from the snares of the present evil 
world, and the power of Satan by whom they had 
been carried captive ? They are made free by 
Christ, who " through death destroyed him that had 
the power of death." They are brought off con- 
querors over their spiritual enemies, through him 
" who loved them and gave himself for them." Do 
they pass from death unto life ? It is through him 
who " tasted death for every man," and " died for 
all, that they who live, should not henceforth live 
unto themselves, but unto him who died for them." 
Is life eternal for them in store hereafter ? This is ex- 
pressly called the "purchased possession," on account 
of its being the reward of the Saviour's sufferings. 
It is the eternal redemption which he hath obtained, 
by offering himself without spot to God. 

The church is also Christ's body, as it was form- 
ed at first by his own personal ministry, and by that 
22 



170 UjSION IN CHRIST. 

of his Apostles, and is still upheld and continued by 
the influence of his word and spirit. Its numerous 
members are by him drawn forth from the ruins of 
the apostacy. Out of every kindred and tongue 
and people and nation, they are collected and form- 
ed into one most excellent and happy society. ' From 
the darkness, error, and corruption of paganism 
were the Corinthians, and indeed all the Gentile 
Christians, at the first publication of the Gospel, 
brought forth into marvellous light and grace. The 
continual accession of new members from that day 
to this, is effected by the means which he has ordain- 
ed. By his word and ordinances, through the 
disposals of his providence, and the influence of his 
spirit, men are still turned from darkness to light, 
and from the power of sin and Satan unto God. 

But again, the church is Christ's body, as all its 
sincere members have been quickened and renewed 
by the efficacious influences of his spirit. "You 
hath he quickened," says the Apostle to the Ephe- 
sian Christians, a who were dead in trespasses and 
sins." They are also said to be " created anew in 
Christ unto good works ; to be saved by the washing 
of regeneration and the renewing of the Holy Ghost ; 
and by one Spirit to be all baptized into one body." 

Do sincere Christians live and walk by the rules 
of goodness, righteousness, and truth ? They are 
led into these happy paths by the Spirit which they 
have received. Do love, joy, peace, and longsufTer- 
ing, gentleness, faith, meekness, and temperance 



UNION IN CHRIST. 171 

adorn their lives ? All these are the fruits of the 
Spirit, which dwelleth in them. 

But farther, the church is Christ's body, as he 
causes it to subsist under the same laws, faith, sa- 
craments, and hopes, and holds it together by mutual 
charity, the bond of perfection. To all who would 
become members of this body, the same conditions 
are prescribed — repentance towards God, and faith 
towards our Lord Jesus Christ. By this door every 
true member makes his entrance into the church. 
And when entered, all are bound to walk by the 
same rule, attend the same ordinances, perform the 
same duties of piety and devotion to God, practise 
the same virtues in their intercourse and dealings 
with men, and towards each other to r feel a mutual 
sympathy as fellow members of the same body. 
Thus united under the same laws, they become en- 
titled to the same privileges and hopes. The great 
and precious promises of the Gospel are their com- 
mon treasure, from which each one derives his com- 
fort and consolation. Having given this explana- 
tion of the church, or body of Christ, I proceed to 
point out some of the duties resulting from union to 
this body. And here, 

First, Subordination among the members, and 
contentment every one with the office, calling, or 
condition in which Providence has placed him, are 
indispensably necessary. They cannot be all upon a 
level, nor have each one the same office and employ- 
ment. Nor should this be matter of regret or dis~ 



172 UNION IN CHRIST. 

quietude to any. The natural body does not con- 
sist of one member only, but of many members, 
which are adapted to various offices and ends ; the 
foot has no reason to complain because it is not the 
hand, nor the ear because it is not the eye. In be- 
ing what they are, the body is incomparably more 
perfect than it would be, if, instead of these mem- 
bers, it had another hand or another eye. In like 
manner the variety of gifts, offices, and conditions 
among the members of the church, conspire to the 
good of the whole. This variety is ordained by the 
same wisdom and goodness which arranged the 
members in our natural body, and ought there- 
fore to induce a cordial acquiescence. As for God, 
his work is perfect, and all the disposals of his Prov- 
idence are wise and gracious. Convinced of this, 
every one should feel satisfied, both with his lot in 
the world, and his station or office in the church, 
however inferior it may seem, compared with that of 
some others. Our main concern should be to acquit 
ourselves well in the places where we are fixed, and 
so to improve whatever gifts or talents may be com- 
mitted to our trust, that we may contribute to the 
general weal. However narrow, comparatively, any 
one's sphere of usefulness may be, yet he is not on 
this account to indulge the suspicion that he belongs 
not to the body of Christ. He may not look upon 
himself as an outcast, merely because he is neither 
the eye nor the hand. His relation to the head de- 
pends not upon the eminence of his situation. The 



UNION IN CHRIST. 173 

most distant and inferior part may be animated by 
the same spirit and under the influence of the head. 
Though its usefulness and importance may not be 
so manifestly obvious, yet it is not to be despised or 
slighted by the higher and nobler parts. " The eye 
cannot say to the hand, I have no need of thee ; nor 
again the head to the feet, I have no need of you." 
Even those members, which are the most feeble, are 
yet necessary ; and those, which are thought dishon- 
ourable and uncomely, should have their defects and 
blemishes covered by the mantle of charity. Hence, 
Secondly, There should be a mutual sympathy and 
a reciprocation of kind offices among the members, 
each one exercising a tender care over its fellow. 
In the natural body there is no division of separate 
interests. The Author of nature has so constructed 
the human frame that all the members have the same 
care one for another ; and so sensible and universal 
is their sympathy, that " if one member suffer, all 
the members suffer with it ; or if one member be 
honoured, all the members rejoice with it." How 
strongly does this allusion, my brethren, inculcate 
upon us the importance of our being kindly affec- 
tioned one towards another ! How forcibly should 
it restrain us from whatever may look like contempt 
in our carriage towards a fellow Christian ! How 
cautious should we be of every word and action, 
that may tend to grieve the spirit, or hurt the feel- 
ings, or, which is yet worse, obstruct the usefulness 
of one, whom charity constrains us to view as a 



174 UNION IN CHRIST. 

brother in Christ ! They, who eagerly take up an 
ill report against a professed disciple of Christ, or 
who wantonly ridicule, injure, or grieve his mem- 
bers, little consider what they do. They think not 
of the manner in which he will resent such offences. 
To him the weakest and feeblest of his people are 
dear and tender. He hath warned us that whoever 
injures them, touches the apple of his eye. 

Thirdly, If we be all one body, and members 
one of another, with what studious concern should 
we endeavour to preserve the unity of the spirit in 
the bonds of love and peace ? How 7 watchful should 
we be against a party spirit, and whatever may tend 
to alienate our affections one from another, and bring 
on strife and contention ? " Mark them who cause 
divisions among you," says the Apostle. In most 
societies there are some narrow, contracted minds, 
who have yet the vanity to set themselves up as the 
best judges of the general interest, and are so stiff 
and unyielding, that they are prone to sacrifice the 
common peace and happiness to their own preju- 
dices, bigotry, or ill humour. How many so- 
cieties have been ruined, and had all their affairs 
thrown into confusion by the prevalence of such 
a spirit. "A kingdom," says our Saviour, "di- 
vided against itself, is brought to desolation ; and 
no city or house thus divided can stand." Such 
divisions however are unavoidable among those who 
are destitute of an accommodating temper, of mutual 
forbearance and condescension. But what can be 



UNION IN CHRIST. 175 

more disgraceful to professed Christians than defects 
of this kind ? Among the Corinthians they were con- 
sidered by the Apostle as marks of their carnality, 
and of a temper opposite to that charity, which the 
Gospel requires, and which is essential to the char- 
acter of real Christians. True brotherly love in- 
spires men with a degree of candour and liberality in 
judging one of another. It disposes them to bear 
with each other's infirmities, ignorance, and preju- 
dices ; to make every reasonable allowance for dif- 
ference of opinion, and renders Christians more anx- 
ious to preserve peace and concord than to estab- 
lish any speculative point, or carry each one his 
own favourite aim in opposition to the views of his 

brethren. 

> 

To you 5 my Christian friends, I would earnestly 
recommend this temper in all your proceedings with 
respect to your choice of a pastor. In obtaining a 
suitable person to be over you in the Lord, to lead 
in the public offices of religion, to open, explain, and 
apply the Scriptures, and discharge all the various 
duties of the christian ministry, — in obtaining a suit- 
able person for this work, you undoubtedly feel your- 
selves greatly interested. It is in itself one of the 
most important transactions to which, as a Christian 
Society, you can be called to attend. When we 
contemplate the church as the body of Christ, form- 
ed and upheld by the influence of his word and 
spirit, and the means which he has ordained, and 
which his providence continually supplies, we are 



176 UNION IN CHRIST. 

strongly impressed with the propriety of seeking to 
Him by prayer for so rich a blessing as an able and 
faithful pastor. As the head of this body, we can 
have no doubt of his unremitting attention to its va- 
rious wants. But he chooses to be inquired of by 
the house of Israel for the bestowment of whatever 
is necessary to their wellbeing. In the first age of 
his church he called and sent forth, in a way su- 
pernatural, labourers into his harvest. But as the 
occasion for these supernatural interpositions ceased* 
he, by the ordinary methods of his providence, has 
continued a succession of pastors and teachers in 
his church. By his blessing on the means of edu- 
cation and the gracious influence of his spirit on the 
hearts of the children of the church, he has from 
time to time raised up of her sons for prophets, and 
of her young men for Nazarites. These at the 
present day are as really his gift, as were the proph- 
ets and apostles of old. By his providence and 
grace they are furnished and disposed for the service 
of the sanctuary. And when a particular church 
or society unite in their choice of a suitable candi- 
date for the ministry, the superintending influence 
of his providence guides all the circumstances of the 
event. By him the parties are led into so impor- 
tant a connexion. And if we ought to acknowledge 
him in all our ways, it is especially incumbent in so 
weighty a concern as the choice of a minister. That 
all our steps in such an affair may be directed by 
him, should be the ardent desire of our hearts. 



UNION IN CHRIST. 177 

But in order to a well grounded hope of this, it 
is necessary that our application to the throne of 
grace be attended and followed with the exercise of 
that christian temper towards each other, which is 
suitable to our mutual relation as members of Christ's 
body. If we forget the duties resulting from this re-, 
lation, we shall forfeit the favourable regards of the 
great Head of the church. Hereby w 7 e are to approve 
ourselves his true disciples, his real members, by 
our love one towards another. By the preservation 
of this temper, by mutual condescension and studying 
the things that make for peace, we may hope for his 
continued protection and the special guidance of his 
providence in every weighty concern. 

My Christian friends, there may, perhaps, be 
some difference in your sentiments on certain articles 
of our common faith. And there may be a yet 
greater difference in your opinions of those who ap- 
pear among you as candidates for the ministry. Of 
the trouble and disquietude arising from this source 
other parishes have had melancholy experience. 
Some, perhaps, who once rejoiced in the success of 
their exertions, in opposition to their brethren, have 
afterwards regretted that success, and found the 
advantage more than balanced by the disadvantages 
consequent upon the loss of peace and unanimity. 
Let it therefore be a settled point with you all, not 
to hazard any such experiment. Resolve, if possi- 
ble, to be generally united in your proceedings. In 
order to this, let those who think themselves most 
23 



178 UNION IN CHRIST. 

opposite to each other, lay their account to give up, 
on both sides, the extreme of their wishes. Who, 
among all the sects and denominations throughout 
Christendom at the present day, can be supposed to 
entertain opinions comparably so grossly erroneous, 
as were those of the first Christians, who " retained 
a religious reverence for idols ?" Yet we have seen 
that towards these the spirit of charity was explicit- 
ly enjoined by the Apostles. Did we ourselves pos- 
sess the same charity, should we think of cutting 
off horn our Christian fellowship, those of our breth- 
ren who understand the Scriptures in a sense some- 
what different from us ? The presumption, pride, 
and bigotry of such conduct appear to me more cul- 
pable than almost any conceivable mistakes in theo- 
ry and speculation can be. To such Christians (if 
Christians they can be called) evidently applies what 
our Saviour said to his disciples, when calling for 
fire from heaven, — " Ye know not what manner of 
spirit ye are of." Precisely the same spirit display- 
ed by them on that occasion, predominates in all who, 
from a persuasion of the truth of their own tenets, 
become confident, dogmatical, and censorious to- 
wards their brethren. By mutual condescension the 
most distant may be brought to unite. And if truth 
and right be your aim, these are rarely, if ever, found 
on any extreme. By the heat of controversy, and 
the zeal of parties, men are transported beyond the 
happy medium of truth and duty. Shun, I beseech 
you, all party names and distinctions, and be not 



UNION IN CHRIST. 179 

over confident on any point of theory or speculation. 
Christianity is a practical science. It consists in 
temper and practice, rather than in sentiment and 
profession. None of its doctrines are of importance 
any farther than as they influence the heart and af- 
fections. And would Christians learn to consider 
them in this light, they would find but little occa- 
sion to dispute about them. On speculative points, 
all are liable to err. The most accomplished and 
judicious divines, after a life of study and inquiry , 
are but learners in the school of Christ. They are 
not perfect in knowledge, nor infallible in their opin- 
ions. In receiving some things as important truth, 
they have often embraced a shadow, or the figment 
of their own imaginations. Thus man, at his best 
estate in this world, is a weak, imperfect, fallible 
being ! And all his speculations, the discourses 
which he may deliver, and the books which he may 
write, are, like their author, imperfect. Of course, 
all systems of divinity, creeds, and forms of faith, 
compiled by uninspired men (though the most wise 
and learned of thp age in which they lived), are to 
be viewed as probably containing a mixture of er- 
ror. None of them all is to be regarded as the stand- 
ard of truth, nor made a criterion for trying the 
sentiments and qualifications of candidates for Chris- 
tian communion, or for the Christian ministry. Let 
it not, my brethren, lessen a candidate in your es- 
teem, if he disclaims every test of this kind. They 
ought to be spurned at, when thus presumptuously 



180 UNION IN CHRIST. 

obtruded into the place of the law and the testimony 
which Christ has given us. As Protestants, we can 
consistently have no other test but the Bible. In 
this is contained the whole of revealed religion. It 
teaches us all, both ministers and people, what to 
believe and what to do. By this we are to be guid- 
ed in forming our principles and in regulating our 
practice. It is the only sufficient rule, both of faith 
and of practice. We should learn to judge for our- 
selves, and use the reason which God has given us 
in examining his word and searching its import. A 
mind, thus uncontrolled by human decisions, is hon- 
orary to Christians in general, and especially to 
ministers and candidates for the ministry. 

In order to your coming to a choice, you must, 
my brethren, of course judge of the qualifications of 
candidates. But let me exhort you to judge by 
Scripture rules. It is of the first importance, that 
the object of your choice be indeed a member of 
Christ's body — a Christian in temper and practice, 
as well as profession. In judging of this his sinceri- 
ty, the reality of his religion, let the rule laid down 
by our Saviour be your guide : — " By their fruits ye 
shall know them." If his moral character be fair 
and unblemished ; if he hath feared God from his 
youth, and has an established reputation for piety, be- 
nevoletice, and sobriety ; — with this you ought to be 
satisfied. Your next inquiry will be, whether he 
possesses those abilities, natural and acquired, which 
are requisite in order to his discharging the duties of 



UNION IN CHRIST. 181 

the ministry with becoming dignity, and so as to 
answer the important purposes of the institution. 
In the sacred writings, these are marked with suffi- 
cient precision for your direction. He must not be 
a novice, but mighty in the Scriptures — a Scribe, 
well instructed in the things pertaining to the king- 
dom of God — able from his treasures, accumulated 
by reading, meditation, and prayer, to bring forth, 
for the edification of his charge, things new and old, 
to feed them with knowledge and understanding. 
He should also possess those talents for communi- 
cation which are implied in being a apt to teach." It 
may not perhaps bring any reflection upon your wis- 
dom and good sense, nor be dishonorary to your 
Christian character, if this church and society should 
agree in choosing a candidate who possesses these 
general qualifications of an useful minister. You 
may lawfully covet the best gifts ; but they who are 
over nice and difficult to be suited, do not always 
make the wisest choice. I heartily wish you, my 
beloved brethren, the Divine presence and direction 
in all your affairs, and that it will please the God 
of the spirits of all flesh to set a man over the con- 
gregation, and to unite your hearts in the choice of 
one who will naturally care for you, and who may 
prove a rich blessing to you and to your children after 
you. Finally, brethren, be of one mind, live in 
peace, and the God of love and peace shall be with 
you. 



SERMON X. 



HUMILITY. 



1 PETER v. 5. 



Go d resisteth the proud ; and giveth grace to the 
humble. 

In the former part of the verse, young persons 
are exhorted to a respectful and submissive behav- 
iour towards their seniors in age, or superiors in 
office and station. Yea, all are enjoined, by mu- 
tual condescension, to promote the general peace 
and unity. In order to this, an humble temper is 
recommended as of the highest importance. " Be 
clothed with humility," says the inspired writer. 
To quicken their endeavours after so necessary and 
ornamental a virtue, he adds, " For God resisteth 
the proud, and giveth grace to the humble." 

To each one of us, my hearers, the grace and 
favour of God is, of all other things, the most need- 
ful and important. How to obtain it, should be our 
great inquiry. The words of the text are an impor- 
tant direction to those who would successfully seek 
heavenly grace. They warn us of the diappoint- 



HUMILITY. 183 

ment which will attend all the religious attempts of 
the proud and self-sufficient ; while they set before 
us an assured prospect of success to those of an op- 
posite character. . God will set himself, according to 
the import of the word in the Greek, as in battle array 
against the proud, but to the humble his grace and fa- 
vour will be readily extended. How forcibly should 
this consideration deter us from whatever savours of a 
proud and arrogant temper, and induce us to humil- 
ity in our whole deportment ! To illustrate this 
grace, distinguishing it from its opposite vice, and 
recommending it to the practice of all, especially of 
young persons and those who are entering on a life 
of religion, is the design of the present discourse. 
Humility, my brethren, holds so distinguished a 
place in the Gospel scheme, and is so essential to the 
Christian character, that whoever has aspired to a 
reputation for extraordinary sanctity among the 
followers of Christ, has usually made great preten- 
sions to this grace. The show of it has been held 
forth by multitudes who were destitute of the reali- 
ty. No other grace of the Gospel, perhaps, has 
been more frequently, or more artfully counterfeited 
•than this. The wild enthusiast, the furious bigot, 
and the vile impostor, have all endeavoured to 
appear to the world under the cloak of humility. 
The laborious ceremonies and unnatural rigours of 
the cloister, while they are submitted to as marks of 
great self-denial and deep abasement, have frequent- 
ly been accompanied with the spirit of vainglory. 



184 HUMILITY. 

and proved subservient to the solemn impostures of 
a sanctimonious pride. At best, they belong to that 
" voluntary humility," which the Apostle censures 
as consistent with a " fleshly mind vainly puffed up." 
In the same light we are also to view an affected 
negligence in dress, singularity of manners, an as- 
sumed dejection of countenance; degrading and un- 
manly submissions, the needless stooping to mean 
and servile offices, and all great professions of self- 
abasement. These things, which so frequently pass 
with the undisccrning multitude for marks of un- 
common humility, are really no other than the baits 
which hypocritical pride is daily throwing out to 
catch applause. It is really wonderful that arts 
which have been practised so long, and were carried 
to the utmost length by the self-righteous hypocrites 
in our Saviour's time, should still retain so much of 
their efficacy. They are easily detected and seen 
through by a judicious observer of characters. They 
w 7 ho in conversation affect to speak meanly of 
themselves, cannot always suppress their uneasiness 
and disappointment when they find that they are not 
contradicted by others. Notwithstanding all the 
hard things which they say of themselves, they cannot 
brook the least censure from their neighbours. 
" One of the proudest men I have ever known," 
says an ingenious writer, " and who could the least 
endure to be charged with any imperfection, was 
perpetually exclaiming, in a lamentable tone, against 
the degeneracy of the world and the depravity of 



HUMILITY. 185 

the heart." All great professions of any particular 
virtue or estimable quality, are always suspicious. 

Genuine humility is the most unprofessing of all 
virtues. It avoids all those words, gestures, and 
appearances of self-abasement, which might draw 
the attention and praise of men. But this virtue is 
not inconsistent with a proper sense of our own 
rights, or with a rational and manly claim of what- 
ever may be our due by the laws of society, or in 
consequence of our station, rank, or situation in the 
community, by virtue of those becoming decencies 
and fitnesses which humanity and civilization have 
established. In a temperate and becoming manner, 
it will dispose us to resist every degradation which 
might tend to obstruct our usefulness or lessen our 
influence. 

When we think of God, of his greatness, his holiness, 
and perfection ; humility will cause us to feel and to 
acknowledge our own insignificance, unworthiness, 
and aggravated guilt. Before him, we shall feel 
ourselves to be sinful dust and ashes, unable to look 
up to him, or on any occasion to address him, but as 
covered with shame and confusion of face. With 
respect to our fellow-men, humility " recognises that 
equality of right and obligation, which, according to 
the diversity of relations and circumstances, subsists 
among all mankind, but also admits and respects 
every occurring instance of merit in any individual." 

It requires both a sound judgment and no small 
degree of moderation and firmness, to repress the 
24 



186 HUMILITY. 

impulses of self-love in such a mannner as to give 
to our own qualities no more value than they ought 
in reason to po sess. So difficult is this attainment, 
that it may be doubted whether it has been ever 
completely possessed by any character merely human. 
To yield to the suggestions of pride, to suffer the 
imagination to be filled with her fantastic images, 
and the understanding to be blinded by her fascina- 
tions, requires no exertion, no abilities whatever. 
The weaker, the more ignorant and vicious a person is, 
the more easily he runs the course which his passions 
prescribe. But the cultivation of humility is a 
work that demands great discernment of the respect- 
ive claims of those that surround us ; the faculty of 
comparing them with our own, a judicious estima- 
tion of merit, and resolution to bend the violence 
and obstinacy of selfish passions to the nature and 
reason of things. These energies of mind, and their 
effects on conduct, command esteem, ensure benev- 
olence and attachment, and evince a character not 
only amiable in itself, but useful to mankind. Ev- 
ery thing social, generous, and exalted, is much 
more to be expected from this than from the oppo- 
site disposition. Is any personal hardship to be 
suffered, any sacrifice to be made for the public good ? 
The person who considers himself as unimportant, in 
comparison with the social body, will be more ready 
to exhibit such instances of magnanimity, than he 
whose chief object is his own exaltation. Is it ne- 
cessary for the peace or wellbeing of the community, 



HUMILITY. 187 

to withdraw from a party, to abandon a favourite 
enterprise, to give up a darling project, tenet, or 
pursuit, or to forbear pressing either of these to the 
disquietude, grief, or injury of others? There will 
be little difficulty, in most cases, in obtaining such 
concession or condescension from the man who is 
diffident of his own judgment, from an habitual 
consciousness of his imperfection ; but from him 
whose pride of heart or of understanding attaches 
infallibility to his own opinions, what can be ex- 
pected ? 

The true nature of humility is marked with great 
exactness by St. Paul in Romans xii. 3. where with 
peculiar solemnity he admonishes every one " not to 
think of himself more highly than he ought to think ; 
but to think soberly." Pride consists in self-exalta- 
tion, in arrogating to itself excellencies, virtues, and 
accomplishments of which it is really destitute ; in 
beholding through a magnifying glass those which 
it may seem to possess, putting an exorbitant value 
upon them, and claiming from others a respect and 
homage to which it has no just title. So strong 
is the propensity of the depraved heart to some 
or other of these emotions of pride and vanity, that 
few men are to be found, who are wholly free from 
them. Even the accidental advantages of birth, 
person, or fortune, give a surprising elation to some 
minds. They prefer themselves to others, and 
assume airs of superiority on the mere possession of 
things, which, in themselves, confer no merit. 



188 HUMILITY. 

Worldly honours, riches, and power, in whatever 
way and by whatever means they have been obtain- 
ed, do yet almost universally minister to the pride of 
the possessors. They are attended with such weight 
and consequence in the affairs of the world, that the 
proud and aspiring have their eye constantly upon 
them, as the ultimate scope of their desires and 
pursuits. 

These, however, are not the only objects on 
the possession of which men are accustomed to 
plume themselves. There are various other things 
which serve as fuel to pride. Graceful accom- 
plishments, shining talents, and splendid actions, 
are thought a plausible pretence for self-exalta- 
tion. Whoever excels in any art, profession, or 
science, and becomes distinguished for his superior 
improvement, is in danger of being unduly elated 
with the encomiums of his admirers. Not only 
natural, civil, and intellectual distinctions, but moral 
qualities and religious attainments, either real or 
fancied, frequently become the occasion of pride. 
And this of all other kinds of pride, is perhaps the 
most dangerous, and the least excusable. Among 
the pretenders to religion, however, instances of it 
frequently occur. The church of Christ, at no 
period since its first establishment, has been wholly 
free from those false brethren, or weak and imper- 
fect Christians, whose knowledge, gifts, influence, 
or station in the house of God, have tended to puff 
them up. Into this condemnation of the devil, the 



HUMILITY. 



189 



Apostle describes novices in religion, as peculiarly 
liable to fall. Among the primitive Christians, there 
were not a few who put too high a value upon the 
distinctions which they enjoyed, and were prone to 
indulge too great a degree of self-complacency. 
Amidst the profusion of extraordinary gifts which 
in that age were bestowed upon the church, some 
were abused to the purposes of pride and vainglory. 
Gifts which excited the admiration and applause of 
the multitude were ardently coveted. Too many 
sought their own reputation and honour by the dis- 
play of them. Hence originated those vain boast- 
ings, — that vaunting of false gifts, or unduly extol- 
ling such as might be real, — and consequently those 
envyings, disputings, and divisions, which the holy 
Apostles in most of their Epistles endeavour, with 
so much concern and earnestness, to correct and 
reform. 

In writing to the church at Corinth, after enu- 
merating all the most splendid and wonderful gifts, 
St. Paul brings into view something which he pro- 
nounces to be far more excellent, necessary, and 
important, namely, that charity which always in- 
cludes, and never ceases to exhibit true humility, — 
" which envieth not, vaunteth not itself, is not puff- 
ed up, behaveth not unseemly, seeketh not her own, 
is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil ; beareth all 
things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endur- 
eth all things." Without this inward principle, he 
solemnly assures them, that no gifts whatever, 



190 



HUMILITY. 



whether of miracles, tongues, or prophecy, no out- 
ward display of alms, no extent of knowledge, nor 
any height of zeal, though it should encounter mar- 
tyrdom, will prove of any avail towards their final 
acceptance with God. He would not, indeed, be un- 
derstood as depreciating spiritual gifts; yet he teach- 
es them that the value of these, and of every other 
accomplishment, is to be estimated by its usefulness. 
For himself, he declares that though he excelled 
them all in the gift of tongues, yet, in a christian 
assembly, he had rather speak five words to the 
edification of his brethren, than ten thousand in 
those various unknown languages, of which they 
were so ambitious. Instead of thinking themselves 
each one to be better than his neighbour, they are 
exhorted to prefer others to themselves. They are 
reminded that, if any man thought himself to be 
something, when he was nothing, the danger and 
misery of such a self-deception would be of his own 
procuring ; and that if any among them seemed to be 
wise, and entertained such an opinion of himself, 
it would be necessary for him to lay aside this 
conceited wisdom, and become a fool in his own 
estimation, in order to his attaining to true wisdom. 
Of all other delusions, that surely is incomparably 
the most dangerous,, which consists in believing 
that we have passed from death unto life, while in 
reality we are yet in our sins, in the gall of bitterness 
and bond of iniquity. But through the illusions of 
self-love, of pride, and vanity, multitudes are thus 



HUMILITY. 



191 



deceived. How heavy is the charge which our 
Saviour himself brings against the church in Lao- 
dicea. " Thou sayest I am rich, and increased with 
goods, and have need of nothing ; and knowest not 
that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and 
blind, and naked." 

If, my hearers, in the age of miracles, the days 
of inspiration, at the first promulgation of the Gos- 
pel, when converts to it were under the immediate 
guidance of infallible teachers, and received special 
messages immediately from heaven — if in these purest 
and best times of the church, so many of its members 
were deficient in true humility, and, through the pride 
and vanity of their hearts, were liable to such great 
and dangerous mistakes concerning themselves ; how 
much does it concern us, in these degenerate days, 
to watch and pray against a sin, to which our nature 
is so exceedingly prone ! What reason for appre- 
hension is there! What ground for jealousy over 
ourselves ! With what vigilance should we keep 
our hearts, and guard them against the entrance of 
pride ! With what solicitude should we cultivate 
the opposite virtue ; and cherish in ourselves hum- 
bleness of mind, a meek and lowly disposition! 
While " they who are wise in their own eyes, and 
prudent in their own sight," assume to themselves 
abilities, virtues, and accomplishments which they 
have not ; and elated with these imaginary excel- 
lencies, aspire at things too high for them ; humility 
will effectually preserve us from these self-deceptions, 



1 92 HUMILITY. 

by teaching us impartiality in judging of ourselves. 
Under the influence of this grace, we shall be cau- 
tious of overrating any of our talents, privileges, or 
attainments. Though it will not divest an upright 
man of the comfort resulting from the testimony of 
a good conscience ; yet, sensible of the deceitfulness 
of the heart, it wjjl incline him to examine himself 
with a suspicious severity. He will look, not mere- 
ly on the bright side of his character, but on those 
frailties and failings which attend even his best ac- 
tions. Conclusions in his own favour, from this 
complete survey of himself, will be expressed with 
diffidence rather than with confidence. He will 
continue to see so much amiss in his temper, views, 
affections, conversation, and practice, from day to 
day, as will render it impossible for him, at any 
time, to be fully satisfied with himself. This habit- 
ual sense of his own infirmities and defects, will 
preserve the meek and lowly frame of his mind. 
Whatever of good he may have done, he ultimately 
refers to the original fountain whence all is derived. 
No degree or extent of usefulness, nor the praises of 
others, will induce him so far to forget himself, as 
not to acknowledge by whom, and through whom, 
the whole has been performed. With the warmest 
gratitude, he will still say with the Apostle, " By the 
grace of God, I am what I am." With sentiments 
like these, my hearers, humility inspires the greatest 
and best of men in the review of those parts of their 
lives, which have been most praiseworthy. These 



HUMILITY. 193 

humble views of themselves add no small lustre to 
all their other excellencies. Indeed, they are insep- 
arable from every truly good and worthy character. 

But my principal aim in this discourse, is to 
recommend humility to those who wish to succeed 
in their endeavours after religious attainments, and 
in seeking the grace and favour of God. Many, 
alas ! fatally miscarry in these attempts. They 
seek " to enter in at the strait gate," and are not 
able. Pride is the greatest and most general obsta- 
cle. a God resisteth the proud." Against them, 
his word and spirit, his providence and grace are 
all opposed. While this is the predominant temper 
or character of any, it is not possible for them to be 
on terms of favour with that Being, " who knoweth 
the proud afar off," and never admits them to the 
nearness and intercourse of friendship with him. 
They who pretend to seek, to ask, or to knock, 
with proud and unhumbled hearts, will do all in vain. 
Their very inquiries after God, and attempts to 
improve in the knowledge of him, will not succeed. 
Such characters are, and forever must be, in a state 
of estrangement and alienation from him. 

But though pride be thus dangerous, and, in 
numberless instances, fatal, yet it is a sin which 
steals upon us unperceived. On every occasion, and 
in almost every action, we are liable to its influence. 
Self-love inclines us to think well of ourselves. 
Under its bias, we are prone to lay hold on every 
circumstance which can encourage or justify our 
To 



194 



HUMILITY. 



inward complacency. To our faults and follies, 
our failings and imperfections, we are wilfully blind, 
or we unreasonably extenuate and excuse them, 
while we as unreasonably magnify whatever may 
seem to be in our favour. All our seeming excellen- 
cies are compared with the apparent defects of our 
inferiors around us. The advantage in our favour 
confirms and heightens the ideas of our own merit. 
We eagerly drink in the commendations of others. 
We listen to the compliments of our friends, and 
will not allow ourselves to suspect that they are un- 
deserved. In this way, and by these means, how 
easy and almost unavoidable is self-deception ! Be- 
fore we are aware, we may fall under the dominion of 
pride and vanity. What numbers among the profes- 
sors of religion do thus deceive I hem selves ! Com- 
passing themselves about with sparks of their own 
kindling, and resting in their fancied attainments, 
they content themselves with the hypocrite's hope. 
When a young person is awakened to pay great- 
er attention to the things of religion, than is usual 
among his companions, and becomes distinguished 
for a religious character ; unless this awakening 
issues in a real change of heart, in true repentance 
and humiliation, there will be the utmost danger of 
his being lifted up with spiritual pride. Having 
abstained from the vices and immoralities to which 
he sees some others addicted, and performed duties 
neglected by them, he will soon begin to reflect 
upon himself with peculiar satisfaction, and grow 



HUMILITY. 195 

delighted with his own character and attainments. 
If his constitution and the state of his nerves render 
him susceptible of enthusiastic impressions and im- 
pulses, there is no height to which he may not ascend 
in his own opinion of himself. In this stage of his 
progress, after having been favoured with what he 
deems supernatural discoveries, he may think it not 
right that his light should be hid under a bushel- 
that the world should miss of the benefit of his gifts 
and experiences. His -ambition may lead him to 
wish that others should think as highly of him as 
he does of himself. To attract their notice, acquire 
importance, and excite admiration, all his abilities 
will be displayed. By a ready utterance, great 
confidence, and bold assertions, he maj, in time, 
attain to the distinction which he seeks — he may 
become the oracle of the weak, the ignorant, and the 
superstitious. Their esteem and applause will 
strengthen his pride and presumption, and confirm 
him yet more in the belief of his own attainments. 
Thus bolstered up in his self-esteem, what is to be 
expected from him ? He has already more under- 
standing than all his teachers, or, as Solomon express- 
es it, " is wiser in his own conceit than seven men 
that can render a reason." Wedded to his own 
opinions, fancies, and notions, from a persuasion 
that he cannot be mistaken, it is in vain to reason 
with him. Fie is confident, dogmatical, and censo- 
rious. He may be a papist or a protestant, a pres- 
byterian or congregationalist, an anabaptist or a 



196 HUMILITY. 

quaker ; but he is not a Christian, for he wants 
humility. He may be in favour with men like 
himself; but in the divine favour he has no part, 
for " God resisteth the proud." To him the king- 
dom of heaven belongs not, for our Saviour has 
expressly assigned it to " the poor in spirit ;" and that 
he is, of all men, the most unlikely to be reduced to 
this poverty of spirit, is strongly intimated in that 
saying of Scripture, " Seest thou a man wise in his 
own conceit ? there is more hope of a fool than of 
him." " Publicans and harlots," said our Saviour to 
the conceited Pharisees, " go into the kingdom of 
heaven before you." 

My young friends, I ardently wish you and all 
others to be earnestly engaged in religion. I would 
hope that some of you are indeed entering upon a 
religious course. But let me entreat you to set out 
right. It is reported, that " what Demosthenes said 
of action in an orator, Augustine has applied to 
humility in a Christian. Being asked what was the 
first thing in religion, he answered, ' humility ;' what 
was the second, he again answered, ' humility ;' 
and what was the third, he still replied, 'humility.' 
In a word, he looked on this evangelical grace, as 
the basis of all the rest." 

Begin, therefore, with this, as the foundation of 
your religious qualifications and character. " God 
heareth not sinners." One reason is, because that 
in all sin there is pride, a setting up of our own 
inclinations, propensities, and humours in opposition 



HUMILITY. 197 

to the wisdom and authority of God. Humility, 
then, is the first step in our return to him, and in the 
way to reconciliation with him. It is essential to 
repentance, and a ceasing from sin. u The spirit of 
the humble, and the heart of the contrite ones," 
mark the same character. Would you return to 
God and seek his favour ? This disposition must 
result from a conviction of the folly and guilt of your 
departure from him. It must excite you to humble 
your souls before him, on account of those manifold 
offences and aggravated provocations with which 
you stand chargeable in his sight. Open your eyes, 
then, to a just view of yourselves ; of your ignorance, 
impotence, sinfulness, misery, and danger. Do you 
need the assisting grace of Heaven to recover you 
from this undone condition ? Be assured that the 
deeper your sense is of this your need, the better 
prepared will you be to receive, and the more likely 
will you be to obtain assistance from above. " For 
God giveth grace to the humble." When they shall 
be thus qualified, by his word and spirit he will lead 
them on in the paths of righteousness, he will 
strengthen them against temptations, support them 
under trials, guide them by his counsel and grace 
whilst here, and receive them to glory hereafter. 
Though heaven be his throne, and the earth his 
footstool ; though he be the high and lofty One, 
inhabiting eternity, and dwelling in light unap- 
proachable ; yet to this man will he look, even to 



193 HUMILITY. 

him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and trem- 
bleth at his word — with him also will he dwell, to 
revive the heart of the humble, to revive the heart 
of the contrite ones. 



SERMON XL 



CONTENTMENT. 



PHILIPPIANS iv. 11. 



For I have learned, in tvhat soever state I am, 
therewith to be content. 

Contentment with our worldly condition and 
circumstances is an important branch of the Christ- 
ian temper, a noble attainment in the divine life, 
after which we should be always striving. Each 
of us should be able to adopt the language of the 
Apostle. What he had so happily learned, the 
Gospel requires us to learn. In the subsequent 
discourse, therefore, it is proposed to describe its 
nature, and give some directions for its attainment. 

The word in the original Greek, rendered con- 
tent in the text, imports self-sufficient ; but this, in 
its strict sense, pertains to the self-existent Being 
only, and can be understood of no creature considered 
abstractedly from Him in whom all fulness dwells. 
St. Paul's assertion is not to be taken in this sense. 
On the contrary, it is with reference to his interest 



200 



CONTENTMENT. 



in God and expectations from him, that he declares 
himself satisfied in any condition. God and his 
providence are the ground of his self-sufficiency or 
satisfaction. He elsewhere thus explains his mean- 
ing, "Our sufficiency is of God." Having God 
for his portion, and receiving all his supplies from 
the divine bounty, he declares himself full and 
satisfied with any measure of temporal good allot- 
ted him by his heavenly Master, whether it be 
greater or less, abounding or scanty. This seems 
to be the obvious import of his assertion, the con- 
tentment to which he had attained. He had late- 
ly received a generous donation from the church at 
Philippi, which he gratefully acknowledges ; but 
at the same time assures them, that he rejoices in 
it, not so much on account of its relieving his per- 
sonal necessity, as on account of its being a proof 
of their regard for the Gospel, and of the happy 
fruits produced by his preaching among them. 
He wishes them not to infer from his present ex- 
pressions of thankfulness, that he had been unhappy, 
or impatient of the straits and difficulties to which 
he had been subjected before the reception of their 
bounty. "I speak not," says he, "in respect to 
want; for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, 
therewith to be content. I know both how to be 
abased, and how to abound. In every place and 
in all conditions, I am instructed, both to be full 
and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer 
need. I am sufficient for all things through Christ 



CONTENTMENT. 201 

who enables me." Here again you will observe 
that Christ is the basis upon which he rests all his 
sufficiency and satisfaction. As united to him and 
deriving from him all his present supplies and fu- 
ture hopes, no temporal changes, whether in them- 
selves prosperous or adverse, greatly move him, 
or disturb the inward composure and tranquillity of 
his mind. To the ancient philosophers of Greece 
and Rome this source of human felicity seems to 
have been unknown ; yet it is certain that the tem- 
per here exhibited by the Apostle, is a qualifica- 
tion essentially necessary to the true happiness of 
a rational, moral being. Without contentment, 
such a being cannot be happy in any situation. 
Of what avail are all the means of enjoyment to 
that man, whose state of mind is such as renders 
him incapable of deriving any satisfaction from 
them. This is undoubtedly the case, to a great 
degree, with all those who are strangers to the ex- 
ercise of piety, and destitute of its principles. In- 
sensible of the hand of God in the events which 
befall them and in the vicissitudes which they ex- 
perience, they can find no arguments sufficient to 
quiet the tumult of their thoughts and passions 
when they meet with crosses and disappointments. 
Such persons may have no spiritual anxieties, 
they may be at ease about their souls and the con- 
cerns of eternity. In the school of sin and Satan, 
they may have learned in whatever state they are 
with respect to God and another world, therewith 
26 



202 CONTENTMENT. 

to be easy and unconcerned. But this is so far 
from being rational or commendable, that it is a 
mark of the most sottish stupidity and most dan- 
gerous self-delusion. The Scripture denounces the 
heaviest wo against those who are thus at ease 
in Zion. All its warnings and threatenings are in- 
tended to awaken and rouse men from this thought- 
less state, this spiritual lethargy. 

Nor does it become any professed Christian to 
rest satisfied with his present religious attainments. 
It is characteristic of all real Christians, while they 
continue in this state of imperfection, to be always 
striving after higher degrees of holiness. St. Paul, 
while perfectly easy about his temporal interests 
and worldly condition, says, with reference to his 
spiritual concerns, " Forgetting those things which 
are behind, and reaching forth unto those things 
which are before, I press towards the mark for 
the prize of the high calling." 

This more just estimate of things unseen and 
eternal, and proportionably greater concern about 
them, will naturally tend to lessen our anxiety, and 
render us, in a measure, indifferent with respect to 
our temporal interests. The latter, being of so 
short and precarious duration, will be regarded 
as next to nothing by a mind deeply impressed 
with the weight and infinite importance of its fu- 
ture and everlasting state. Its thoughts, its hopes 
and fears, being chiefly occupied and exercised up- 
on this, it will easily submit to any present incon- 



CONTENTMENT. 203 

venienees, privations, or sufferings, which the Divine 
wisdom may appoint for its trial and discipline. 

My hearers, till we shall become sensible to 
the worth of eternal things, we shall continue to 
overrate things temporal, and of course be liable 
to an improper and culpable solicitude about them. 
While the comforts and enjoyments of the present 
world, its riches, honours, and pleasures, are regard- 
ed as the chief good, as our most valuable treas- 
ure ; our minds must be necessarily agitated, 
elated or depressed according to the ever variable 
aspect of our worldly affairs. Our judgment of 
these things must be wholly reversed, and differ- 
ent and opposite sentiments of worldly good 
must be entertained, before we can hope to learn 
true contentment. In hope of that eternal life 
which the Gospel sets before us, we must comply 
with its conditions, be thus reconciled to God, 
cordially yielding ourselves up to obey his precepts 
and to submit to his allotments ; — in our habitual 
temper we must be thus conformed to his will, before 
we can enjoy that inward peace and tranquillity 
which are the portion of his children. Before his 
conversion to Christianity, St. Paul himself had 
been a stranger to that contented mind which is 
expressed in the text. It was in the school of 
Christ that he learned this happy lesson. 

If, like him, we imbibe the spirit and adopt 
the principles of the Gospel, these will naturally 
lead us, as to all other virtues, so to this of con- 



204 CONTENTMENT. 

tentment with our condition in special. I mean 
not, that christian piety will render us insensible 
either to the good or evil things of the present 
state, or supersede or suspend a prudent care, or 
any suitable endeavours for obtaining the one, or 
escaping the other. It will, in fact, from a prin- 
ciple of conscience, render us steady and diligent 
in these cares and pursuits, while at the same time 
it will free us from those restless anxieties with 
which they are too generally attended. Having 
planned and conducted our affairs in the manner 
which we had judged most prudent, should we fail 
of success, we shall know that our disappointment 
is the will of our heavenly Father, and our habitu- 
al submission to him will still preserve the peace 
and tranquillity of our minds. We are allowed to 
seek and conditionally to pray, not only for the 
necessaries, but for the comforts and conveniences 
of life ; but if the supreme Disposer sees fit to with- 
hold them from us, or to withdraw them after they 
have been in our possession, a principle of duty to- 
wards him will restrain all the emotions of discon- 
tent. We know that there is no want either of 
wisdom or goodness in him, and that all things are 
right and best as ordered by him. This conviction 
is a firm ground for contentment and satisfaction 
in every condition. Thus persuaded, we shall in 
patience possess our souls upon every occasion, and 
under whatever circumstances we may be placed. 



CONTENTMENT. 205 

It is an observation of the ingenious Addison, 
that "there never was a system, besides that of 
Christianity, which could effectually produce con- 
tentment in the mind of man." Among the 
numerous sages and philosophers of antiquity, 
some tell us that our discontent only hurts our- 
selves, enhances and aggravates our sorrows, with- 
out effecting the least alteration in our circumstan- 
ces ; others, that whatever evils befall us, proceed 
from that fatal necessity, that eternal, irresistible 
destiny, from which the gods themselves have no 
exemption ; while others, again, very gravely as- 
sure the man in misery, that his sufferings are ne- 
cessary to keep up the general order and harmony 
of the universe, and that they could not be pre- 
cluded without deranging the great scheme of 
providence and incurring the danger of general con- 
fusion and disorder. If these and similar consid- 
erations serve to silence complaint, they can afford 
no satisfaction to the sufferer, If they convince 
him of the unreasonableness of his discontent, still 
they are far from removing it or alleviating its 
pain. Instead of bringing consolation or suggest- 
ing hope, they minister nothing but despair. To 
all arguments of this kind, applies the answer 
which Augustus Caesar is reported to have made to 
his courtiers when attempting to assuage his grief 
for the death of a beloved friend, by telling him, 
that his tears and lamentations were fruitless and 
unavailing, as they could not bring back the de- 



206 CONTENTMENT. 

ceased. "It is for that very reason that I grieve," 
exclaimed the agonized emperor. 

Christianity, my brethren, bears a more tender 
regard to the feelings of human nature. Jt address- 
es the sufferer in more soothing accents, and opens 
to him a door of hope. It assures him that the bear- 
ing of his afflictions as he ought will have a natural 
tendency to bring about the removal of them. It 
makes him easy here, by showing him how happy 
he may become hereafter, and how much that hap- 
piness may be increased by the right improvement 
of his present troubles. It teaches him that by 
patience and submission, by restraining and subdu- 
ing his present inordinate desires, all his desires 
will hereafter become regular and be completely 
and forever gratified. 

But, to be more particular in defining the nature 
of contentment, I observe that it consists, 

First, in bringing our minds to our condition, 
and thus limiting our desires. If the latter be un- 
restrained, it is plain that they can never be satisfied. 
Exorbitant desires are the great source of perpetu- 
al discontent. A comfortable subsistence, conven- 
ient food and raiment, may be lawfully desired ; 
but if your desires rise beyond these, and impetu- 
ously crave the objects of pride, luxury, and 
vanity, you may be assured that no acquisitions 
whatever will satisfy them. Avarice, pride, and 
ambition are, in their own nature, insatiable. 
Many of those who seem the most uneasy and dis- 



CONTENTMENT. 207 

contented with their present condition, are prone 
to imagine, that, could they attain to what is pos- 
sessed by some of their neighbours, it would be 
the competency with which they would be satisfi- 
ed. But experience universally shows, that when 
people have been thus succeeded, and risen to what 
they once thought would be the height of their 
ambition, new objects present themselves, other 
and different prospects open before them, new 
wants and contrivances start up, and inflame their 
desires afresh ; and they continue their pursuits 
with as much eagerness and impatience as ever ; 
nay, it often happens, that their desires have so 
strengthened by indulgence that they are now 
more restless and uneasy than they were before 
they began to rise. They find no satisfaction in 
their present possessions through an impatience 
still to enlarge them — to obtain what formerly it 
had never entered into their thoughts to desire. 

My hearers, while we neglect the subjugation of 
our passions and lusts, our minds in every condition 
will be like the troubled sea. We are first exhorted 
to "let our conversation be without covetousness," 
that is, to divest ourselves of all craving, intemper- 
ate desires; and then to "be content with such 
things as we have," that is, with present things, 
whatever they may be. Though some former com- 
forts should not be among them, yet we ought not to 
miss the enjoyment of those which remain, either 
through a vain regret for what has already happened, 



208 CONTENTMENT. 

or an anxious fear of what may happen hereafter. 
When an event has taken place, we know that it was 
the will of God that it should be so, and, by all the duty 
which we owe to him, are bound to acquiesce ; and 
as all futurities are also in his hand, they are really 
placed where we should wish them to be, and we 
cannot imagine them to be under a better direction. 
As Christians, we are forbidden to seek for ourselves 
the great things of life, or to be solicitous about its 
distant futurities. We ought to be satisfied in wait- 
ing upon God from day to day for our daily bread ; 
looking to him for all our supplies, while we con- 
tinue our endeavours after them in the use of those 
means furnished by his providence, cheerfully con- 
fiding in his goodness to grant such success as he 
sees will be upon the whole best for us. Hence, 

Secondly, Christian contentment is opposed to 
all inordinate care about to-morrow, all irregular 
methods for bettering our condition, and all the 
emotions of envy towards others. Our calling, as 
Christians, obliges us to diligence, faithfulness, and 
prudence, in performing the duties and labours of our 
respective professions and callings as men and as 
citizens. Every man is required to exercise a degree 
of forethought in providing for his own house. In 
these ways we are to seek and wait for such a por- 
tion of temporal comforts as Heaven may see fit to 
allot ; but we must wait with hearts submissive to 
the divine will — not suffering our minds to become 
the prey of corroding care and anxiety. Nor may 



CONTENTMENT. 209 

we allow our thoughts and affections to be so placed 
upon our temporal pursuits, or so taken up in labour- 
ing for the meat which perisheth, as to become 
negligent of our spiritual concerns, or formal or re- 
miss in the discharge of religious duties. If " the 
one thing needful" be neglected, while our minds 
are cumbered and overcharged with worldly cares, 
instead of christian peace and contentment, distraction 
and confusion will reign in our bosoms. While we 
thus torment our minds, we do not improve our 
circumstances. It is all a senseless and fruitless 
anxiety. For who, by thus taking thought, can add 
one cubit to his stature, or alter the destinations of 
Heaven ? These, after all, will guide the event, 
and very probably to the disappointment of those 
who are so criminally desirous of having it under 
their own control. How often have we seen those 
who have been thus hasty and eager to rise in the 
world above others, at last overwhelmed by misfor- 
tune and sinking even below mediocrity ! 

We may be thus reduced after a life spent in the 
most worthy and honourable pursuits ; but such a 
reverse will not destroy the happiness of that man 
who has learned with the Apostle, how to be abased 
and suffer need without impatience — without charg- 
ing God foolishly, or murmuring or repining at his 
dispensations. He will resolve to bear what Heaven 
sees fit to lay upon him, and, in this submission, he 
will experience a satisfaction, in itself superior to any 
worldly enjoyment. 
27 



210 CONTENTMENT. 

Under such circumstances, unhumbled, carnal 
minds are sometimes tempted to irregular methods 
of obtaining relief and bettering their condition. 
They are prone to think the calamities which 
have befallen them or the poverty to which they 
are reduced, a kind of excuse for resorting to un- 
fair means of gain. But men must be extremely 
impatient of their lot, when, to escape the little in- 
conveniences of this life, they thus make shipwreck 
of faith and a good conscience, and forfeit all hope 
towards God. Some who do not thus openly re- 
bel against Heaven, yet seem to give way to a spirit 
of envy. Their chagrin at their own misfortunes 
would not be so great, did they not witness the 
better success of those engaged in similar pursuits 
with themselves. They could be tolerably satisfied 
with their condition, did they not see others above 
them. Their pride is mortified and their envy ex- 
cited, when they find themselves in the back ground, 
while their former equals or perhaps inferiors are 
advanced before them. There is reason to suspect 
that a great part of the uneasiness and discontent 
apparent among men, is occasioned by the different 
success of their affairs and the diversity in their 
respective conditions. Through a spirit lusting to 
envy, they are filled with disquietude. But to 
those possessed of a Christian spirit, whose treas- 
ure is in heaven, worldly distinctions are of but 
little moment. Their eye is not evil because these 



CONTENTMENT. 2ll 

trifles are bestowed more plentifully upon their 
neighbours, than upon themselves. Assured that 
every man is but a steward of the things which he 
possesses, and responsible for the use which he 
makes of them, they are well satisfied with the 
distributions of Providence. If they have not so 
many or so great talents as others, they know that 
proportionably less will be required of them. As 
we are all in a state of discipline, and the prov- 
idence of God tries us individually by all that vari- 
ety which we experience in our respective condi- 
tions, by those different portions both of enjoyment 
and suffering which fall to our lot, no pious man 
dares to complain, or to indulge the thought that 
he has any just ground for discontent. Hence, 

Thirdly, In order to support the Christian 
virtue of contentment in every condition, habitual 
confidence in the wisdom and goodness of the 
Supreme Disposer is indispensably necessary. When 
calamity overtakes us, and all things around us wear 
a dark and threatening aspect, if our minds hang 
in doubt whether we be not brought into this situa- 
tion by some blind fatality, or through the agency 
of a Being who is hostile towards us, while enter- 
taining such apprehensions, the utmost anxiety 
must be unavoidable. For this reason incorrigible 
sinners, when held in the cords of affliction, are 
compared to "wild bulls in a net." They fret 
themselves, and curse their king and their God, 



212 CONTENTMENT. 

blaspheming the Majesty of Heaven on account of 
their plagues. But instead of these ebullitions of 
impiety, all is peaceful and serene with those who 
have a filial confidence in God. When under the 
same outward sufferings, a sense of his wisdom 
and goodness awes them into submission and con- 
strains them to hold their peace. Nay, when the 
most disastrous events befall them, they will in their 
hearts still justify the ways of Providence. Upon 
no occasion do they allow themselves to doubt 
whether wise and good purposes will not, in the 
issue, be accomplished by those things which at 
present are so perplexing and grievous. They 
give full credit to that promise of our Saviour, 
" What I do, ye know not now, but ye shall know 
hereafter." His Gospel abounds with promises, 
that all things, whether prosperous or adverse, 
" shall work together for good to those who love 
and fear God." In proportion as good men con- 
fide in these promises, they can with truth adopt 
the language of the text, and declare themselves 
contented under whatever circumstances they may 
be placed. But having given some account of the 
nature of contentment, the remainder of this dis- 
course shall consist of some directions for its at- 
tainment. 

That a contented mind is to be acquired by our 
own endeavours assisted by divine grace, is evident 
from the language of the text. u I have learned" 



CONTENTMENT. 213 

says the Apostle, " in whatsoever state I am, there- 
with to be content." He does not here mention 
the particular considerations by which he was in- 
fluenced ; but no thinking mind can be at a loss 
for arguments showing the fitness and reasonable- 
ness of the temper which he exhibited. 

Since the ordering of our condition, through 
every period of our existence, must necessarily be 
in the hand of him who made us, should it not 
render us satisfied with our lot, whatever it may be, 
to reflect, 

First, How much safer and better it is for u& 
to lie at his mercy than at the disposal of any oth- 
er being ? We know the tenderness of our own 
nature towards those of whose existence we have 
been instrumental ; and can we imagine that he 
who has endued us with such feelings of compas- 
sion towards our offspring, can himself be wanting 
in care or kindness for those who are wholly his 
creatures — the immediate work of his hands, whom 
he has fearfully and wonderfully made ? Is it not 
reasonable to believe, as our Saviour clearly in- 
timates, that his goodness transcends whatever is 
human, in proportion to the infinity of his perfec- 
tions above those of any finite nature ? Under this 
persuasion, king David, when in a great strait be- 
tween the choice of evils, said, " Let us now fall 
not into the hand of man, but into the hand of the 
Lord, for his mercies are great." While children 



214 CONTENTMENT. 

are of a tender age, the kindest of parents often for 
their good deny their requests, oppose their inclina- 
tions, and disappoint their hopes ; nay, are some- 
times under a necessity of applying to them the rod 
of correction. Can we doubt whether a similar 
discipline with ourselves, may not be necessary in 
the view of the common Father of the universe ? 
" Who knoweth what is good for a man in this 
life ?" " All these things are against me," exclaimed 
the shortsighted Patriarch ; when those very cir- 
cumstances, so grievous and distressing in appear- 
ance, were in reality conspiring and working to- 
gether, to bring about events which filled him with 
the utmost joy and gladness. Had his favourite 
son, whom he so long and so deeply lamented, for 
whom he declared, that " he would go down to the 
grave mourning," escaped the pit and the prison, 
and passed a quiet life under the fond indulgence 
of a doting father, he would have missed of all 
his glory in Egypt, and of that lustre of character 
which rendered him typical of the common Sa- 
viour of the world. 

In our own experience, have not many events, 
which at the time we considered as grievous mis- 
fortunes and disappointments, occasioned afterward, 
in the result, some great and unexpected good? 
Are we not conscious of having once entertained 
desires in which, if we had been gratified, or of 
having engaged in pursuits in which, had we been 



CONTENTMENT. 215 

succeeded — we have now, upon the review, reason 
to believe that such gratification, or such success 
might probably have proved prejudicial, if not sub- 
versive of our happiness ? What is more common 
than for men thus to mistake in their judgment, of 
the things which concern their own interest and 
welfare ? How often do they choose real evil 
under the delusive appearance of good, and refuse 
the latter by falsely judging it to be evil ? Solomon 
obseryes of riches, that they are, in some instances, 
" kept by their owners to their hurt." This ob- 
servation as often applies to all the other splendid 
objects of life. How large a proportion of the 
proud and aspiring through every age, after climb- 
ing to a dangerous height by many painful steps 
through a great part of their lives, seem, by the 
event, to have reached it for no other purpose, but 
to render their fall and ruin the more conspicuous, 
signal, and terrible. In humbler situations, the 
common multitude, always dissatisfied with their 
present condition, are incessantly contriving and 
labouring to effect a change ; but when the object 
is obtained, the same symptoms of disquietude still 
appear. They are as restless and uneasy as be- 
fore. The expected satisfaction is not realized ; 
new experiments are contemplated ; and thus, my 
hearers, we go on, and must go on, and pass our 
lives in discontent, unless we can persuade ourselves 
that we are so absolutely in the hand of God, that 



216 CONTENTMENT. 

we enjoy nothing but what he gives us ; that we 
lose nothing but what he sees fit to take away ; 
that we miss nothing but what he denies us ; that 
we suffer nothing but what he lays upon us ; 
that whatever our condition be at any time, and at 
all times, it is precisely that in which he places 
us ; and that, as all these things are thus ordered by 
him, they are, upon the whole, the wisest and best 
for us. When this persuasion shall be so settled 
and fixed in our minds as to control all our thoughts 
and passions, then, and not till then, shall we know 
what is meant by christian contentment, or experi- 
ence inward peace and satisfaction. The reason- 
ableness of this temper may be argued, 

Secondly, From our relation to God consider- 
ed as creatures, as servants, and as sinners. As 
creatures, what are our rights and claims ? We 
find ourselves existing upon God's earth ; we open 
our eyes upon the world and the fullness thereof ; 
but can we say that all these things belong to us ? 
Are the bread and the wine, the wool and the flax, 
the silver and the gold, and all other treasures so 
peculiarly our own as to come at our call ; or, on 
the failure of any article, are we so deprived of 
our right as to have cause of complaint ? We 
never had any thing which we could properly call 
our own. Naked, empty, and defenceless, we 
came into the world, and while here, we live from 



CONTENTMENT. 217 

day to day in continual, arbitrary dependence for 
our whole subsistence. 

That Being who made and who sustains us, is 
undoubtedly entitled to our whole service ; but 
does it belong to servants so absolutely dependent, 
and who, after they have done their best, cannot be 
profitable to their owner, to prescribe to him how 
they shall be maintained, fed, clothed, and accom- 
modated ? 

But we are so unfortunate as to be under the 
necessity of acknowledging ourselves to have been 
not only unprofitable, but unfaithful servants — to 
have become sinners. As such, we can claim 
nothing but the wages of sin. These, and these 
only, are our due. " Wherefore, then, should a 
living man complain ?" He ought to be thankful 
for any condition short of finished misery. But, 
through the unparalleled mercy of God, we are re- 
deemed sinners, ransomed by the blood of Christ 
from the second death, and made candidates for 
life eternal in heaven hereafter. By the Gospel 
of Christ, we are called from a state of bondage, 
a bondage incomparably more wretched than that 
of the Israelites in Egypt, the bondage of sin and 
Satan, into the glorious liberty of the children of 
God. We are now on our journey towards the 
heavenly Canaan, that land flowing with milk and 
honey, where every want shall be supplied, every 
desire gratified, — where pure, unmixed happiness 
28 



218 CONTENTMENT. 

shall be our eternal inheritance. With such pros- 
pects before us, shall we think much of the little 
inconveniences and hardships which may attend 
us while we are on our way through this wilder- 
ness ? Of all persons, surely it least becomes 
Christians to betray any symptoms of discontent. 
Whoever else complains, they have the most solid 
ground, the most abundant reason, not to learn 
only, but to practise the lesson in the text. " God- 
liness is profitable unto all things, having the 
promise of the life that now is, and of that which 
is to come." But again, 

Thirdly, Whatever our present condition may be, 
if we would impartially consider it in all its relations, 
it would probably be found far more eligible, or at 
least not comparably so bad, as our imaginations 
and passions represent it. Perhaps you are poor. 
You must, therefore, be industrious, frugal, and 
economical in your manner of living. Your diet 
must be more simple, your raiment a little coarser, 
and all superfluities dispensed with. You cannot 
fare sumptuously every day. You cannot indulge 
your vanity in show and parade, nor can you have 
goods laid up for many years. You will have but 
few friends and no flatterers. And what mighty 
evil can there be in all this ? It may be queried 
whether these inconveniences may not be more 
than balanced by your freedom from the cares and 
distractions, the dangers and temptations, the 



CONTENTMENT. 219 

snares and incumbrances to which wealth exposes. 
Besides, it is the condition to which the great 
majority of mankind through every age and in 
every country are subjected ; — and will you think 
it hard to fare as the generality of your fellow 
creatures and even of your fellow Christians ? 
Think of those primitive Christians, who took joy- 
fully the spoiling of their goods. Think of St. 
Paul and the other Apostles, whose lives were 
spent under all the heaviest calamities which a 
wicked world could heap upon them. Above all, 
think of your great Master himself, who had not 
where to lay his head. Keeping these examples 
in view, and daily imploring the aids of heavenly 
grace, you will probably at length be able to adopt 
as your own the language of the text. 



SERMON XII. 



CHARITY. 



1 COR. xiii. 4. 

Charity envieth not. 

The charity here mentioned, is that principle of 
love to God and man, rooted in the heart and extend- 
ing its influence over the life, which forms the sub- 
stance of all true religion, and is called the u fulfill- 
ing of the law." The importance of this principle 
is urged in language the most forcible. Without it, 
we are told, all human accomplishments, and all 
supernatural gifts will profit us nothing. Though 
we were skilled in all the sciences, masters of all 
languages, and could speak with the tongues even 
of angels ; though we understood all mysteries, and 
had the gift of prophecy to foretell future events, and 
of a miraculous faith so as to be able to remove 
mountains ; nay, though we should abound in the 
outward works of charity, to such a degree as to 
bestow all our goods in alms, and in the end give 
our bodies to martyrdom ; yet if, in the sight of the 
heart-searching Being, these things proceed from 



CHARITY. 221 

any other principle than the love of God shed abroad 
in the heart, — the whole will profit us nothing. 
However splendid our gifts may be, however shining 
our apparent virtues, yet we are but as a sounding 
brass or a tinkling cymbal, while we remain destitute 
of this divine love. It is this which forms the es- 
sence of the christian temper, and constitutes the 
excellence of the christian character. All its prop- 
erties are in direct opposition to the propensities of 
the depraved heart. " Charity suffereth long and 
is kind." It endures a series of ill usage ; and yet, 
instead of being instigated to revenge, studies to be 
kind, gentle, and forgiving. " Charity envieth not." 
In this respect, it is opposed to that spirit in apostate 
man, " which lusteth to envy." This evil spirit is 
so generally predominant, and its baneful fruits so 
abundant and malignant, that all have need of cau- 
tion against them. Are calumny, slander, and de- 
famation universally diffused ? Are they handed 
round from circle to circle in our daily conversation, 
and extended far and wide in the vehicles of public 
intelligence ? Are the repose of individuals, the 
peace of families, and the order of society disturbed, 
and the spirits of parties and factions sharpened 
against each other by these means? Nearly all 
these evils may be traced to envy, as the root whence 
they spring. Envy is a malevolent feeling towards 
others, on account of certain advantages possessed 
by them, which we crave for ourselves. It wishes 
them evil, not as a retaliation for evil received from 



222 CHARITY. 

them, or as a punishment for any wrong which they 
have committed ; but merely because in the esteem 
of the envious person, they are supposed to be hap- 
pier, more prosperous, or fortunate, than he is him- 
self. In this respect, it differs from common anger 
or resentment, which is occasioned by some real 
or supposed injury or offence. Envy pretends no 
just ground of complaint, but yet feels malignant, 
and has an appetite for vengeance. Of all our bad 
passions, therefore, it is the most deformed, and 
bears the nearest likeness to the supposed temper of 
infernals. Its character is so universally odious, that 
none are willing to have it known that they are 
under its influence. It may indeed be hoped, that 
the number of persons is small in whom so vile a 
disposition is suffered to reign predominant. They 
who are conscious of its emotions within them, think 
it necessary to conceal or disguise them, not only be- 
fore the world, but even to themselves. They affect 
to believe that the uneasiness which they feel at the 
sight of others' prosperity, arises from some less 
culpable cause than that of envy. 

But though this evil principle should not form a 
visible and striking feature in our character, yet it 
may not be amiss for us to inquire, whether it do not 
occasionally, at least, gain the ascendant in our hearts, 
whether it be not secretly indulged, and be not, in real- 
ity, our motive for crediting and circulating ill reports 
concerning those, whose success, elevation, or fame, 
give us pain rather than pleasure. Various causes 



CHARITY. 



223 



and considerations may conspire in checking and 
restraining the stronger emotions of envy, and yet a 
degree of this poison may fester in our bosom. 
Though it should not produce any violent agitations 
of spirit, nor be manifested in any deeds or speeches 
of malignity ; yet if you experience a ruffled and 
disturbed mind at seeing yourselves outstripped in the 
career of wealth, of fame, or in any other pursuit, 
this inward uneasiness from such a cause is a deci- 
sive proof of something amiss in your prevailing 
temper. That mind must be diseased which is hurt 
and wounded as often as it beholds the superior 
success of its neighbour. Mere emulation, indeed, 
is not culpable. In every laudable pursuit, we 
ought to vie with one another, and strive to excel. 
If others have fairly borne from us the prize, we 
may regret our own defects, but ought not to repine 
at their success. 

The envious man can neither bear that his equals 
should rise above him, nor that his inferiors should 
come upon a par with him. It is said of the unbe- 
lieving Jews at Antioch, in Pisidia, that, when they 
saw the multitudes of Gentiles assembled to hear 
Paul preach, " they were filled with envy." Their 
national pride abhorred a religion which raised 
the despised Gentiles to the enjoyment of equal 
privileges with themselves, and brought them into 
the same relation to God. In modern times, reli- 
gious advantages and endowments are not often the 
grounds of envy. Though virtue, probity, and 



224 CHARITY. 

moral goodness be in themselves estimable above 
all other accomplishments, and give to their possess- 
ors a distinction more valuable and honourable, than 
crowns or sceptres, jet they rarely excite envy. It 
has been said, that " no man is envied for being more 
just, more generous, more patient, or forgiving than 
others." But though he may not be envied on ac- 
count of these virtues in themselves considered, yet 
the reputation, esteem, and public favour which may 
attend the known practice of them, do often render 
him the object of envy. Cain did not covet for him- 
self the faith and sincerity which attended the obla- 
tions of his brother ; but the visible acceptance with 
God, which these virtues procured to the offering of 
Abel, filled the heart of Cain with malignant rage. 
It was not the excellence of Joseph's character above 
theirs, which stirred the envy of his brethren, but 
because their father loved and distinguished him 
above them. Among ourselves, though no man may 
be envied merely for his virtues, yet the temporal 
advantages which those virtues procure, the worldly 
honours and distinctions to which a character emi- 
nently good is sometimes recommended, set in motion 
a thousand tongues and a thousand pens to destroy, 
if possible, that character. All its virtues must be 
shaded and brought into suspicion, and all its fail- 
ings and defects must be enhanced and aggravated 
into crimes. These things are of daily occurrence 
among the competitors for places of power, honour, 
and emolument. We do not usually envy those who 



CHARITY. 225 

move in a sphere remote and distant from our own, 
and with whom we have no competition. They 
are rival candidates for employment, fame, or favour, 
who are in danger of looking with an evil eye upon 
each other's success. 

Among the poor, indeed, there is generally a 
disposition to envy their more prosperous and wealthy 
neighbours. We all love the world and the things 
of the world ; and when we see others in the pos- 
session of comforts, conveniences, and pleasures, 
which we have not the means to command, we are 
exceedingly prone to feel the emotions of discontent. 
We overrate the value of all worldly distinctions, 
and assign to them a degree of enjoyment far beyond 
what is experienced by their possessors. We think 
ourselves as deserving as they, and on this ground 
conclude that we have just cause to complain of the 
hardness of our lot. 

Pride and an inordinate love of the world 
are the dispositions which engender envy. By 
thinking too highly of ourselves and of our own merit, 
we are led to claim more from others than they are 
willing to grant. Soured by disappointment, and at 
the same time putting an exorbitant value on the 
object which we have missed, and another has gain- 
ed, our discontent, mortification, and chagrin are 
suffered to ferment into the rancour of envy. This 
becomes, as Solomon has expressed it, the "rot- 
tenness of the bones," and renders a man his own 
tormentor. After being preyed upon by so vile a 
29 



226' 



CHARITY. 



passion, he is fit to associate with none but fiends. 
Yet the Scripture testifies of the ancient heathen, 
that " they were full of envy," and of the depraved 
nature in us all, that " it lusteth to envy." 

How much, then, does it concern us, my hearers, 
to obtain that new T nature mentioned in the text, 
under the name of love or charity, " which envieth 
not." In every real Christian, this temper prevails. 
It consists in a heart universally benevolent, wishing 
and seeking the good and happiness of all its fellow- 
beings. It is a participation of the divine nature — 
of that nature which is love in the abstract. In 
every heart imbued with the love of God, there is a 
prevailing propensity to imitate that Being, whose 
tender mercies are over all his works, who u causes 
his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and 
sends rain on the just and on the unjust." All who 
are born of God are followers of him as dear child- 
ren. Like him, they delight in the diffusion of hap- 
piness. As he is good to all, and has no pleasure in 
the misery of any, so they who are transformed into 
his image, are disposed to rejoice in the happiness of 
all around them. Their noble and enlarged minds 
are, in no small degree, happy in witnessing the 
happiness of others. His pleasure in the prosperity 
of others, would not be destroyed in a good Chris- 
tian, though he himself should suffer adversity. It 
would indeed mitigate his pain, and heighten his 
satisfaction to be assured that there was not another 
sufferer on earth besides himself. 



CHARITY. 227 

My brethren, is this temper our own ? Are 
our hearts thus filled with that love " which envi- 
eth not?" With what feelings do we behold the 
superior success and prosperity of those who start- 
ed with us in the race of life, engaged in the same 
line of business, or in the same profession with 
ourselves? It may be that we are left far in the 
rear, while they are advanced to opulence and dis- 
tinction, and have attracted the notice of the pub- 
lic. Does your heart sicken at the sight of their 
prosperity, and feel the workings of uneasiness and 
dissatisfaction? Do you hear of their merit and 
fame with reluctance? Do you feel a secret dis- 
position to detract from their worth, to suggest 
your suspicion of some unknown defects in their 
character? Would it gratify your spleen to see 
them fall from their present elevation, or the cur- 
rent of public favour diverted from them? Are 
not these the symptoms of envy? From this evil 
passion that bosom cannot be pure and free, in 
which such thoughts and dispositions are indulg- 
ed. If you endeavour to quiet your conscience by 
the excuse, that what you feel is but an honest in- 
dignation at seeing the unworthy prosper, it be- 
hoves you to be critical and impartial in examin- 
ing your heart, whether their unworthiness or their 
prosperity itself be the cause of your disquietude. 
Whatever their defects or faults may be, if you 
felt little or no concern about them while thev 



228 CHARITY. 

were in a low condition ; if it was not till they 
had risen above you, that you first discovered their 
unworthiness, in this case the probability is ev- 
idently against you, that something amiss in your- 
selves gives you this discernment of ill desert in 
others. Or, if you pretend that your uneasiness 
arises from an apprehension of the ill use which 
they will make of their good fortune, you ought to 
reflect that for this you are not responsible. If 
we see with regret, rare and extraordinary talents 
in the hands of those who bury them in the earth 
or pervert them to ill purposes ; still, as every in- 
stance of this kind is a prosperity which brings 
destruction after it, the case calls for no other feel- 
ings than those of grief and compassion for those 
unhappy persons, who thus contrive to make them- 
selves miserable with the blessings of heaven. 

In short, when we consider, that whatever our 
advantages or disadvantages of form and bodily 
constitution, our mental abilities, our success in 
business, our circumstances in life, our worldly 
possessions, reputation, and influence in society, 
may be, — the whole has been received from the 
providence of God ; that all the distinctions sub- 
sisting among men, are his allotments ; that it is 
he who, in every instance, maketh one to differ 
from another, maketh poor and maketh rich, bring- 
eth low and lifteth up ; that, whether our talents 
be great or small, few or many, they are , such as 



CHARITY. 229 

we have received from him, and must in the end 
account to him for the use which we make of 
them ; — when we thus reflect, what room in rea- 
son can we find for dissatisfaction with our own 
lot, or for uneasiness at beholding what in our ap- 
prehension may seem the more eligible situation of 
our neighbour? The order and general good 
of society require a diversity of ranks, employ- 
ments, and conditions — some high and some 
low ; some must command, while others obey. 
The rich and the poor meet together, and are mu- 
tually helpful and subservient to each other. With 
respect to real enjoyment and the things which 
constitute human happiness, they are not so wide 
apart, as is generally imagined. They to whom 
fortune is most favourable, possess the advantage 
but for a short and precarious duration. So mu- 
table and fluctuating is the condition of humanity, 
so manifold the unforeseen changes to which we all 
lie open, that it is no uncommon thing for those 
who are regarded with envy on one day, on the 
very next to pass through a vicissitude which ren- 
ders them the objects of compassion. While envy 
turns pale at beholding the splendid apparel and 
luxurious indulgence of the rich man, and he him- 
self, presuming that his mountain stands strong, 
pleases his imagination with the prospect of many 
years of enjoyment, that very night "his soul is 
required." Thus he disappears in the midst of all 



230 CHARITY. 

his glory. Is it not wonderful that creatures of so 
short duration, who are such hasty passengers 
through life, who are all liable to such numberless 
mishaps and casualties by the way, casualties 
which compel us at the moment to commiserate 
one another, should yet be so prone to discontent 
and disquietude at the little inequalities in their 
respective lots, the trifling advantages which one 
occasionally and for a short season possesses above 
another ? 

The indulgence of such a temper is as impious, 
as it is foolish and absurd. It is a flying in the 
face of Providence, a rebelling against the divine 
dispensations, an opposition of heart to the will of 
him by whom our respective conditions in life are 
assigned. It often happens that those who are the 
most prone to this temper, are persons whose ill 
qualities or ill conduct cut them off from any ra- 
tional prospect of success and prosperity, and ren- 
der them unworthy to be thus distinguished. In 
the ordinary course of providence, "wisdom bring- 
eth to honour, and the diligent hand maketh rich." 
Men who strive to excel in their profession or cal- 
ling, who are attentive to their business, punctual 
to their engagements, upright in their dealings, and 
economical, frugal, and prudent in their manner of 
living and in the management of their affairs- — 
such men rarely fail of a competency of the good 
things of the world, and sometimes attain to afflu- 



CHARITY. 231 

ence. While thus acquiring their possessions, they 
at the same time usually enjoy them in as high a 
degree as the present circumstances of man will 
admit. The bosoms of such men are rarely dis- 
turbed by feelings of envy. Conscious of their 
own exertions and deserts, they are above little 
jealousies and low competitions. Accustomed to 
an open and ingenuous conduct, their honest, un- 
suspicious hearts render their lives serene and tran- 
quil, as the fine day darkened by no passing clouds, 
nor ruffled by any boisterous wind. 

They are the proud and indolent who are the 
most liable to become the prey of envy. Too im- 
portant in their own esteem to stoop to the industry 
or application requisite to success, and yet believ- 
ing themselves entitled to every good which the 
world can bestow, they behold the prosperity of 
others with chagrin. Their dark and distempered 
minds are always uneasy and discontented, always 
repining at their own hard lot, and always fretting 
and murmuring at the superior prosperity of oth- 
ers. The dispositions of such men must be chang- 
ed before they can be happy. To them nothing 
can be more needful than that divine love or charity 
mentioned in the text. This, and this only, will 
effectually clear their minds of their present dis- 
turbed thoughts, render them humble and modest 
in their estimate of themselves, convince them 
how much above their deserts their present condi- 



232 CHARITY. 

tion is, render them truly thankful for the many 
unmerited mercies with which they are encompass- 
ed, and enable them to learn this most useful les- 
son, " in whatever state they are, therewith to be 
content." 



SERMON XIII. 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 



PROVERBS xvi. 32. 



He that is slow to anger, is better than the migh- 
ty ; and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that 
taketh a city. 

Among those who are called the great men of 
the earth, no desire is more common or predomi- 
nant than that of dominion and conquest. By en- 
terprises of this sort, by the extension of their 
power, men become great in the estimation of the 
world. The conquerors of cities and the rulers of 
nations are considered as standing on an eminence 
above the rest of their species — the objects of 
general homage and admiration. The glory of 
their names and the splendour of their achievements 
are preserved in the annals of history, and handed 
down with eclat from one generation to another. 
But there is a different kind of conquest and do- 
minion, to which the wise man in the text gives 
the preference — a greatness superior to all the 
30 



234 SELF-GOVERNMENT. 

trophies of war, and to all the trappings of power — a 
greatness which yet lies within the reach of every man, 
and to which we all ought ardently to aspire. " He 
that is slow to anger is better than the mighty ; and 
he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city." 
Victory over our passions and the due government 
of ourselves are here recommended as more import- 
ant, and in themselves more valuable and desirable, 
than any other conquest or dominion. 

Of all our passions, or of the stronger emotions 
of our minds, none are more violent than those 
which are usually excited by what we consider as 
unprovoked injuries or affronts . The sallies of 
anger and resentment are sudden and often exces- 
sive ; and when unrestrained, prove dreadful in 
their effects. A behaviour opposite to these irreg- 
ularities is implied in being "slow to anger." It 
denotes such a full and steady command over our 
resentful passions as suffers them not to rise upon 
slight and trivial occasions, and, when excited by a 
just cause, not to exceed either in height or dura- 
tion the bounds of moderation, or the dictates of 
reason and the precepts of religion. But whoever 
thus governs these more turbulent affections and 
maintains the mastery over them, may be supposed 
capable of controlling all his other passions and 
appetites, of limiting his desires and regulating his 
general temper by the rules of duty and propriety. 
Therefore ruling his spirit is added in the text as 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 235 

an explanation of what is meant in being slow to 
anger. The due government of every passion 
and of all the propensities of our nature is includ- 
ed in the character described in the text. Self- 
command upon every occasion, and the imposing 
proper restraints upon all our inclinations and de- 
sires is the evident import of ruling one^s spirit. 

The extirpation of our passions is not required. 
They belong to our original constitution. Human 
nature, while innocent and uncorrupted, was still 
susceptible of hope and fear, of joy and sorrow, 
of anger, compassion, love, and aversion. Our 
Saviour himself, after his incarnation, when here 
on earth, was upon some occasions moved with 
"anger;" on others, " grieved in spirit;" and on 
others again, " touched with compassion." Those 
strong emotions of spirit, therefore, which we call 
passions, are not in themselves, and when duly 
regulated, sinful. They may be rendered subser- 
vient to many useful and important ends. 

The violence and irregularity of which they 
are susceptible are the fruit of our apostacy from 
God. By falling under the reigning power of 
sinful propensities, reason, the intended regulator of 
our whole man, was weakened, and the passions, 
which were intended to be its obedient subjects, 
received great additional strength and became in- 
subordinate. No longer balanced by judgment 
and discretion, they gain the ascendency, and. 



236 SELF-GOVERNMENT. 

from being the ministers of reason, become the 
tyrants of the soul, exercising an usurped dominion 
over all its nobler, and what were designed to be 
its ruling powers. The effects of this anarchy in 
the human mind — this usurpation of the passions, 
appear in our blind and foolish attachment to im- 
proper and unworthy objects, in our being driven 
into wrong and hurtful pursuits, or hurried on to 
excess in those which might otherwise be innocent. 
Under the sway of our passions, our desires flow 
forth in every direction, and we rush forward to 
their gratification with a blind and dangerous im- 
petuosity. Thus circumstanced, the mind resem- 
bles a ship in a tempest, without rudder or compass, 
driven by the winds and waves, and in constant 
danger of rocks and shoals. Our recovery from 
this misery and danger, can be no otherwise effect- 
ed, than by reason's resuming the helm, reducing 
the passions to order, directing their course, and 
holding them back from exorbitancy and excess. 
This is what is meant by a man's " ruling his 
spirit." 

In gaining this conquest over ourselves, the dis- 
coveries and precepts of Scripture afford us the 
most signal aid. They strengthen and assist our 
perceptive faculties in discerning the distinction 
between good and evil, in forming a just estimate 
of things, in ascertaining the worth of those objects 
which solicit our regards, and in directing our pur- 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 237 

suits accordingly. They also furnish motives so 
weighty and cogent, as cannot fail, when duly con- 
sidered, to check every inordinate desire, and dead- 
en the force of every unlawful passion. The man 
who truly imbibes the spirit of the Gospel, and 
resolutely follows its directions, will, in his general 
temper and conduct, show that he is slow to anger 
and " rules his spirit." Under the yoke of him 
who was meek and lowly, and learning of him, he 
will not be easily provoked, nor upon any occasion 
carry his resentments beyond the rules of justice 
and propriety. No transports of passion will hurry 
him into excess, darken his judgment, or seduce his 
reason. " In patience he will possess his soul," amidst 
the various changes of this state of trial. Rest- 
ing upon fixed principles, and possessing a firm and 
steadfast mind, all the inferior propensities of nature 
will feel the curb of reason and religion. No hopes 
or fears, no joys or sorrows about worldly things, 
will unduly elate or depress him. Nothing in 
his outward situation will be suffered habitually to 
discompose his temper, or so to disturb his inward 
serenity, as to unfit him for discharging the duties 
or partaking of the comforts of life. Calm and 
gentle, dispassionate and unbiassed, inflexible to 
vice, and steadfast in the pursuit of virtue, he will 
hold himself always attentive to the voice of con- 
science, and ready at all times to obey its dictates. 
These things belong to that government of ourselves 



238 SELF-GOVERNMENT. 

to which reason as well as revelation exhorts us. 
To induce us to seek after it, the text leads us to 
contemplate its superior excellence, to any other 
conquest or dominion. This is the immediate im- 
port of its assertions. " He that is slow to anger, 
is better than the mighty ; and he that ruleth his 
spirit, than he that taketh a city." The truth of 
these assertions will appear, if we consider, 

That the due regulation of our passions and 
government of ourselves, argue a strength and 
greatness of mind, of which the power of a prince, 
and the triumph of a conqueror, are no proof. 
Man's chief eminence above the beasts, consists in 
the extent and strength of his rational faculties. 
In no case is the strength of reason so unquestion- 
ably manifest, as when it subjects the appetites 
and passions to its sway, steadily controls all the 
animal propensities, and guides the general temper 
and conduct. The more perfect any one is in this 
government of himself, in the same proportion does 
he rise above others— is better and greater than 
they. On the other part, the want of self-com- 
mand betrays the weakness of reason. Little 
minds are peculiarly liable to become the sport of 
passion and prejudice. They are easily deluded 
by the sophistry of their desires, and those false 
appearances which corrupt affections and an irreg- 
ular fancy throw upon objects. In them, the voice 
of reason is too feeble to be heard amidst the 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 239 

noise and clamour of turbulent passions. Unable 
to resist the allurements of interest and pleasure, 
they are hurried into various excesses, from one 
extreme to another. 

From this tyranny of their passions, princes and 
heroes have no exemption. It has often appeared 
that, while they have governed nations and com- 
manded armies, they have had no command over 
themselves. History presents us with but few 
celebrated conquerors, who have not themselves 
been conquered by their lusts, and carried captive 
by some degrading passion. In what, then, does 
their greatness consist ? The distinctions of power 
and station are adventitious circumstances, having 
no certain connexion with either merit or abilities. 
The weak and the worthless often possess them. 
The place or the station may command respect, 
while the person who fills it is secretly despised. 
Nor are martial exploits sure marks of true great- 
ness. The courage of the warrior in the field of 
battle may be no better, and is often, perhaps, 
of the same kind, with that of the noble animal 
that carries him on to the combat. The horse 
" mocketh at fear ; smelling the battle afar off, he 
saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha. Though the 
quiver rattleth against him — the glittering spear and 
shield, — yet he turneth not back from the sword. 
Going on to meet the armed men, he swalloweth 
the ground with fierceness and rage." From simi- 



240 



SELF-GOVERNMENT 



lar passions in men, from anger, fierceness, and 
rage, more frequently, perhaps, than from the settled 
principles of reason, have victory and conquest 
proceeded. The conqueror of nations and king- 
doms has, after all, shown himself a mere poltroon 
with respect to his spiritual enemies, having no 
heart or courage to encounter those lusts which war 
against the soul. In numberless instances, it has 
appeared much easier to vanquish armies and 
take citadels, than to conquer passions, moderate 
desires, forego revenge, and preserve a character 
for meekness, justice, and temperance, amidst the 
allurements of interest, the pride of power, and the 
baits of sensuality. To this purport, an ancient 
heathen poet has said, 

By virtue's precepts to control 
The thirsty cravings of the soul, 
Is over wider realms to reign 
Unenvied monarch, than if Spain 
Thou could'st to distant Lybia join, 
And both the Carthages were thine. 

As the man who rules his spirit excels the 
prince and the conqueror in strength of reason, so 
he is above them in wisdom and discretion. In 
every excess and irregularity of passion there is folly. 
What we do from its impulse, we find reason to 
condemn in our cooler moments. Under the sallies 
of resentment, or while any irregular desire is pre- 
dominant within us, the dictates of reason are 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 241 

disregarded, and we do things of which we are after- 
ward ashamed. Indeed, the transports of passion 
are a fit of madness and distraction. At such sea- 
sons we are beside ourselves ; and there is nothing 
so foolish and extravagant, of which we may not 
become guilty. By these follies and extravagan- 
ces, they who are called kings and heroes, have 
been often degraded and debased. After subduing 
nations and countries, by falling under the power 
of unbridled passions, they have themselves become 
more truly wretched and despicable than the cap- 
tives led in chains on the day of their triumph. 
Having no rule over their own spirit, their minds 
have resembled the ruin which they have spread, " a 
city broken down and without walls." Their pow- 
er and rank in society, have served but for the exal- 
tation of folly, to render it the more conspicuous, 
and often the more mischievous. To what disadvan- 
tage do the excesses of such turbulent and unruly 
spirits appear, when compared with the moderation, 
the prudence, and wisdom of well regulated minds ! 
" The discretion of a man," says inspiration, 
" deferreth his anger ; and it is his glory to pass 
over a transgression." In the opinion of Solomon, 
nothing more is requisite to make a wise man, than 
the due government of his passions. " He that is slow 
to wrath is of great understanding." Though his 
natural abilities should be but indifferent, yet, with 
the advantage of a sedate and composed mind, he 
31 



242 SELF-GOVERNMENT. 

is really wiser and fitter for great undertakings, and 
more likely to prove successful in them, than anoth- 
er of greater vivacity and brighter parts, when these 
are attended, as they frequently are, with a temper 
irascible and violent. Unrestrained anger infatu- 
ates all the powers of reason, and during its contin- 
uance, renders men as void of understanding — as 
fierce and dangerous, as the wild beasts of the 
forest. 

Such characters have appeared at the head of 
armies, and swayed the sceptre over nations and 
kingdoms ; yet their honours and triumphs have 
never engaged that esteem of the heart, that inward 
respect, which we universally feel for the character 
of him who has conquered his passions, and steadi- 
ly governs himself by the rules of reason and virtue. 
Such a government of ourselves excels every other 
kind of dominion in this, that it always proceeds 
from principles and qualities of mind, in themselves 
truly estimable and praiseworthy,— from a compe- 
tent knowledge of ourselves, a discernment of the 
differences of things, a just estimate of their com- 
parative value, and a steady determination of soul 
to what is fit and right. From the influence of 
these principles and dispositions, good men are 
led to unwearied efforts in beating down the body 
of sin, in keeping under their inordinate desires, 
in obtaining and preserving the rule of their own 
spirits, the mastery over their passions and lusts. 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 243 

But conquest and dominion over others, are no 
proof of mental excellence. For the most part they 
originate from resentment, hatred, and revenge, or 
from avarice, ambition, and vainglory — passions 
which are in themselves the sum of all human 
weakness, folly, and guilt. 

Another excellence of self-government above 
that of any other kind of conquest or dominion, 
consists in its happier effects and consequences. 
These are great and valuable beyond all esti- 
mation. From no other victories or conquests 
can we reap fruits comparable with those which 
result from the conquest of our own passions 
and lusts. Humanity weeps at those scenes of 
blood and ruin through which victories are gained, 
cities taken, and enemies subdued. Though the 
sufferers were in every instance the aggressors, and 
in this view received but the just reward of their 
deeds ; yet that such dreadful recompenses should 
be so often and repeatedly necessary, is a most 
melancholy consideration — an awful proof both of 
the depravity and misery of our nature. All these 
things, however, would be effectually prevented, 
were self-government to become universal among 
men. Would they be persuaded each one to con- 
quer his passions and " rule his spirit," this alone 
would remedy all the principal evils of human life, 
— personal discontents, family contentions, variance 
among neighbours, civil discord, national quarrels, 



244 SELF-GOVERNMENT. 

and foreign wars. " From whence come wars 
and fightings among you ?" says the Apostle ; 
" come they not hence, even of your lusts that war 
in your members ? ye lust, and have not : ye kill, 
and desire to have, and cannot obtain ; because 
ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your 
lusts." Here we find, in our own ungoverned pas- 
sions and lusts, the source of those great evils, which 
fill the world with misery. Nor can there be any 
bulwarks, any mounds or barriers raised against 
these evils so strong as effectually to exclude them 
or stop their progress, while the spring and source 
of them remains and is kept open. The unruly 
passions of men will continue to supply, without 
end, renewed inundations both of private and pub- 
lic calamity. But if men would apply themselves 
diligently to the ruling of their own spirits, if instead 
of affecting to have dominion over others, they 
would sedulously strive to get the command over 
themselves ; if instead of giving way to ambition, 
they would confine their desires, and learn to be 
meek and lowly, and content with such things as 
they have, — then would all private injuries and 
offences be removed, then would wars cease in the 
world ; there would be no acts of violence and 
oppression, and no complaining in our streets. 

In the due government of ourselves, we should 
also find a remedy for most of those evils and dis- 
orders which render other kinds of government ne- 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 245 

cessary. The professed end of all civil governments 
is, that they may be a " terror to evil doers," and 
restrain the irregularities of those who impose no 
restraints upon themselves. Laws are made, not 
"«for the righteous," but " for the lawless and dis- 
obedient," to prevent the evils and mischiefs which 
their unruly passions and lusts have a strong and 
constant tendency to produce. It is plain, there- 
fore, that if men could be brought to rule their 
own spirits, and govern themselves by the laws 
of reason and conscience ; other laws — the whole 
code of penal statutes — would become unnecessa- 
ry, and the authority of rulers and magistrates 
would be in a great measure superseded. 

Self-government would not only prevent those 
evils which it is the design of civil government to 
restrain, but those also which escape the vigi- 
lance of all human laws. And these are not a 
few. Of the whole catalogue of crimes committed 
against the peace and happiness of society, it is 
perhaps but a small proportion comparatively, which 
receive a just recompense of reward from the sword 
of the magistrate. His vengeance falls upon those 
offences only, which are known and proved. Be- 
yond this boundary he has no power to punish. 
Yet in the dark regions of secrecy and concealment, 
how manifold are the vices of men, how number- 
less the wrongs and injuries which they daily 
suffer one from another ! Behind the curtain, 



246 SELF-GOVERNMENT. 

what scenes of fraud and injustice, of cruelty and 
revenge are acted ! And, besides those greater 
offences which escape punishment merely by the 
perpetrators escaping detection, there are innume- 
rable other actions of a hurtful and pernicious ten- 
dency, which, for want of a determined and distinct 
character, come not under the cognizance of human 
laws. They lie so near the borders of right and 
wrong, and are susceptible of such various and 
doubtful construction, that the civil authority dares 
not arrest them ; yet their mischief in society is 
unspeakable. Under this description we may enu- 
merate the want of natural affection among near 
relations, the rigour of parents, the ingratitude of 
children, various degrees and countless instances of 
inhumanity, false and treacherous friendships, vio- 
lations of domestic peace, perfidious counsels, vile 
suspicions, slanderous insinuations, and the cruel 
advantages which the artful and hard-hearted, the 
fraudulent and designing, are every day taking of 
the honest, the simple, and the necessitous around 
them. No laws made, or authority exercised by 
men, can reach these evils. But the very roots of 
them would be eradicated, were self-government 
to become universal. In proportion as men learn 
to subdue their passions, and restrain their inordi- 
nate desires, society will cease to be torn with 
these briars and thorns. 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 247 

Another happy effect to be expected from this 
government of ourselves, above every other rule or 
dominion to which we can aspire, is a remedy for 
those evils and miseries, which are occasioned by 
almost all the other human governments in the 
world. The powers of civil government are, in- 
deed, intended, as ordained by Heaven, to be a 
blessing to the world. But like all other blessings 
in the hands of unprincipled men, they have been, 
among most nations, the weightiest engines of 
general oppression. This would not be the case, 
did they who rule over men first learn to rule 
themselves. But such characters have been al- 
ways rare in the world, and more rare perhaps 
among the candidates for power, than among any 
other class of men. The fact is, that the rulers of the 
world have, in general, been those who were them- 
selves ruled by the most gigantic lusts and passions. 
The consequence has been, that, under pretence of 
protecting states and nations from mutual inroads 
and invasions, and individuals from mutual wrongs 
and robberies, they have appropriated to themselves, 
under the name of revenues, the national wealth, 
revelled on the hard earnings of public industry, 
and nourished their luxury, pride, pomp, and glory, 
with the tears of general misery. From the days 
of Nimrod down to the present time, the sun per- 
haps has never performed his circuit, without be- 
holding the rulers of nations very generally, with 



248 SELF-GOVERNMENT. 

their courtiers and favourites, rioting in all the 
gratifications of unbounded sensuality ; and a 
great proportion of their subjects groaning under 
the accumulated burden of their oppressions and 
the cruelty of their edicts. " The king and Ha- 
inan sat down to drink ; but the city Shushan was 
perplexed." 

It is obvious, however, that all these evils and 
abuses would be excluded by self-government 
among rulers. If they would learn to subdue their 
passions and rule their spirits by the dictates of 
reason and conscience, they would then become in 
reality " the ministers of God for good" to the 
community. 

On the other part, in the opposite relation, 
self-government among subjects is the best securi- 
ty for their quiet and peaceable submission to good 
and wholesome laws, and ready support in carry- 
ing them into execution. If this be wanting, if 
they who are to obey, have no command over 
themselves, no rule of their own spirit, they may 
soon throw off all respect for civil rule, and tram- 
ple upon the most just and necessary laws. Nay, 
their passions and prejudices may subvert the very 
foundations of government, and destroy its form 
and constitution. All this may proceed from the 
slightest causes. Any little disappointment, any 
trivial grievance, or even the wanton desire of 
change, may prompt an incendiary to spread a 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 249 

train among the passions of multitudes, as com- 
bustible and inflammable as himself. In a day 
or an hour, as it were, a fabrick of government 
erected by the collected wisdom of ages, and pur- 
chased at the expense of thousand of lives and 
millions of treasure, — in a day or an hour, the 
whole structure may be prostrated by the wild 
fury of popular sedition and insurrection. 

How forcibly, my hearers, should these consid- 
erations convince us of the necessity, importance, 
and excellence of self-government above any other 
rule or power ! Without it, no man is properly 
qualified for discharging the duties of any sta- 
tion, relation, or condition in life. He is fit neither 
to command, nor to obey. He can be neither a 
good master, nor a good servant ; a good parent, 
friend, neighbour, nor citizen. Having his pas- 
sions under no control, he must of course be a 
dangerous member of society. Nay, he is an ene- 
my to himself, a disturber of his own peace and 
quiet, a stranger to happiness and self- enjoyment, 
a slave to the worst of tyrants, under the most 
ignoble, abject, and wretched bondage to which 
the rational nature can be subjected. 

I therefore add, in conclusion, as another excel- 
lence of self-government above any other dominion, 
its tendency to make us free in the truest sense of 
the word. " His servants ye are to whom ye obey." 
They whose passions and lusts have the ascenden- 

m 



250 SELF-GOVERNMENT. 

cy over them, are under servitude to these vile and 
degrading masters. Many are so deluded, as to 
mistake these chains for liberty, and glory in fol- 
lowing whithersoever appetite and inclination lead. 
But in reality this freedom is suitable to those 
animals only, that have nothing higher than sense 
and instinct to direct them. As a rational, moral 
being, the freedom of man consists in the empire of 
his reason over all the propensities of his nature, 
in following its dictates, and in doing, at all times, 
whatever it judges fit and best to be done. This 
is to be free indeed. This raises him to his prop- 
er place and rank in the scale of being, and gives 
him his dignity and superiority to the irrational 
creation. In the exercise of a freedom like this, 
he resembles the citizens of the heavenly Jerusalem. 
So perfect and strong is the sway of reason in 
them, that their minds are incapable of any irregu- 
lar motion or desire whatever. As we hope, here- 
after to associate with them, it is indispensably 
requisite that we now begin the imitation of them, 
by throwing off every yoke of sin and lust, and 
acquiring the same kind of freedom. This cannot 
be obtained by any conquest or dominion over 
others. Nor can it be purchased by the peculiar 
treasure of kings. It is a nobility which no earth- 
ly power can confer. The only way to obtain it, 
is by resolute and persevering exertions, each one 
in conquering his passions and ruling his spirit. A 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 251 

warfare against these enemies and usurpers in our 
own breasts, may be found at first a troublesome 
and difficult enterprise. By degrees, however, it 
will become easier, and victory will prove an ample 
recompense for all the labours and pains which the 
conflict may cost. It will crown us with com- 
plete and everlasting freedom. 



SERMON XIV. 



LOVE OF PLEASURE. 



1 TIMOTHY v. G. 



But she that liveth in pleasure, is dead while she 

liveth. 

We too often witness among us melancholy 
examples of the character here designated — " per- 
sons living in pleasure," and yet, to all the best 
purposes of life, "dead while they live." To 
every kind of pleasure, indeed, this censure does 
not apply. There are many pleasures which are 
innocent, rational, and religious. These are in- 
tended by the gracious Author of our being to con- 
stitute our happiness. That we might be blessed 
with such enjoyments, must have been his chief 
aim in our creation. It is inconceivable that he 
could have had any other view in bringing us into 
existence, but to enable us to partake of his bounty 
and rejoice in his goodness. We are placed in a 
world abounding with objects and means for the 
moderate and regular gratification of all the senses, 



LOVE OF PLEASURE. 253 

appetites, and propensities of our nature. How 
pleasant and delightful to our eyes are light and 
colours, and all the grand, the beautiful, and enter- 
taining prospects presented by this visible creation ! 
From the flowers of spring and the blooming scenes 
of nature, what refreshing fragrancies do we in- 
hale ! From the melody of sounds, what enter- 
tainment and delight enter our ears ! How are 
the pleasures of taste consulted in that vast variety 
of things which we eat and drink, each having its 
peculiar flavour ! All our organs of sense are so 
constructed and adapted to their respective objects, 
as to become so many inlets of enjoyment. Sen- 
sations of pleasure attend the use of all the means 
necessary for sustaining and preserving life. In 
satisfying the cravings of hunger and thirst and all 
the appetites of our animal nature, we experience 
gratification and delight. In the regular enjoy- 
ment of these pleasures there is nothing amiss. 
Though we share them in common with the brute 
animals ; though they belong to the inferior part 
of our nature, to the body only ; yet, while they 
are in subordination to the nobler and more refined 
pleasures of the mind, and are rendered subservient 
to our improvement in knowledge and virtue, they 
are not only innocent and lawful, but are evidently 
intended by our bountiful Creator as ingredients in 
our happiness. They are to be received with 
grateful acknowledgments of his goodness. " Every 



254 LOVE OF PLEASURE. 

creature of God," says the Apostle, " is good, and 
nothing to be refused, if it be received with thanks- 
giving." 

But we must ever remember that whilst, in our 
corporeal frame, we are allied to the animals of this 
earth ; in the faculties of our minds and our future 
destination, we claim kindred with the spirits of 
heaven. Being made but little lower than the an- 
gels, like them we have a capacity for knowing, 
serving, and enjoying our adorable Creator. This 
must be the chief and ultimate end of our being, 
the sum of its glory and happiness. For the at- 
tainment of this end, the present life is a state of 
discipline, the great object of which is improve- 
ment in knowledge and virtue — the acquisition 
of those intellectual, moral, and spiritual qualifica- 
tions, which may fit us hereafter for the society of 
heaven, and the everlasting favour and approbation 
of the God of heaven. This is the final and glori- 
ous inheritance which our heavenly Father has 
provided and has in reserve for those of his chil- 
dren among men, who in the present life acquire 
those habits and virtues necessary to fit them for 
the actual possession. And while they are thus 
training up for a blessed immortality, they are 
allowed by faith and hope to anticipate in a degree 
the joys in store for them hereafter. These antici- 
pations are increased in proportion to their pro- 
ficiency in virtue and holiness. In the keeping of 



LOVE OF PLEASURE. 255 

the divine commands they are sensible of a present 
and great reward, through the inward peace and 
comfort of their minds. They experience " the 
ways of wisdom to be ways of pleasantness, and 
and all her paths to be peace." Their present 
spiritual comforts and enjoyments keep pace with 
their preparations for heaven. " Light is sown 
for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in 
heart." Like the rising light, their path shines 
brighter and brighter unto the perfect day. Such 
a life and such pleasures tend to the glory and per- 
fection of our nature. 

But all these things are totally disregarded by 
those who, in the sense of the text, " live in pleas- 
ure." It is evident that in these words is intro- 
duced a character directly the reverse of that of a 
well governed mind, temperate and moderate in 
the enjoyments of sense, and capable of finding 
pleasure in works of charity and piety, in the ex- 
ercises of devotion, and an exemplary walk with 
God. From all these things they are utterly 
estranged, who give themselves up to the pleasures 
of sensuality. The Greek word rendered " living in 
pleasure," refers to a course of living, intemperate, ir- 
regular, and dissolute ; — in the opinion of Dr. Whit- 
by, to drinking strong and costly liquors. The grat- 
ifications of intemperance with their usual accom- 
paniments, are deemed essential to a life of pleasure. 
Any one vice indeed, when it becomes predominant. 



256 LOVE OF PLEASURE. 

will draw to its standard and enlist under its ban- 
ner a long train of kindred vices. Whoever falls 
under the dominion of any one sin, will, in the 
issue, become the servant of sin in general. The 
intemperate person cannot, for any length of time, 
confine himself to this one evil habit. His sub- 
jection to this will constrain him to associate with 
it many other habits equally evil and vicious. It 
will be next to impossible for him to refrain from 
joining company with those who are men of strength 
to mingle strong drink. With them he will tarry 
long at the wine, till he be overcharged with sur- 
feiting and drunkenness, till all his bad passions are 
inflamed, and he is prepared to run to an excess of 
riot. With the complicated vices of his associates 
he will be soon infected. His eyes will behold 
strange women, and habits of lewdness, gaming, 
profaneness, and the hardened contempt of all the 
rules of decency and sobriety,' will succeed and 
follow in the train of intemperance. They who 
abandon themselves to any of their sensual passions, 
may lay their account for a complete depravation 
of character in the end. Their immoderate love of 
pleasure will betray them into expenses beyond 
their income. To support their extravagance and 
prodigality, dishonourable methods of gain will be- 
come necessary. To cover these, recourse must 
be had to the arts of dissimulation and falsehood. 
One instance of falsehood must be cloaked by an- 



LOVE OF PLEASURE. 257 

other, and one act of fraud must be supported by 
another ; " till in the end, there arises a charac- 
ter of complicated vice, of luxury shooting forth into 
baseness, dishonesty, injustice, and perhaps cruelty." 
Thus a life of pleasure is an entrance on a 
course of general vice and wickedness. If it does 
not, in every instance, produce all that complicat- 
ed guilt now described, yet it is always attended 
with spiritual death, with the habitual neglect of 
God and religion, with a distaste for the pleasures 
of devotion and an indifference about moral and 
spiritual attainments. They whose principal at- 
tention and concern are taken up either in adorning 
or pampering their bodies, find no leisure to attend 
to the interests of their souls. Improvement in 
knowledge, truth, and virtue, is as necessary to the 
health and happiness of the mind, as daily food is 
to the support and welfare of the body. But the 
nobler part of their nature is wholly neglected by 
those who " make provision for the flesh, to fulfil 
its lusts." Their thoughts and their pursuits are 
wholly engrossed by " the pleasures of sin." " In 
the service of divers lusts," those talents are pros- 
tituted, which ought to be employed in serving 
God and their generation. That time and those 
opportunities which ought to be most diligently 
improved in securing their eternal interests, are all 
squandered in the indulgence of mean and sordid 
appetites, in a perpetual hunt after sensual gratifi- 
33 



258 LOVE OF PLEASURE. 

cations. With their whole hearts they despise and 
hate whatever is spiritual, heavenly, and divine. 
They cannot endure even the instrumental duties 
of religion, and studiously shun all the forms of 
devotion. In sensual joys is their whole delight, 
and they are in a measure listless and stupid in 
the intervals between one indulgence and another. 
Walking after the flesh and alive only to their lusts, 
their carnal mind is enmity against God, " not 
subject to his law T , nor indeed can be." If then to 
be " carnally minded is death," as the Scripture 
expressly affirms, they who live in pleasure, enslav- 
ed to their lusts, are already dead, spiritually dead' 
dead in trespasses and sins. To all the most valu- 
able purposes of life they are dead ; or if they be 
said to live, it is in contradiction to the nature which 
God has given them, and the ends for which he 
made them. They may, it is true, as animals, 
breathe and move, walk upon the earth and see 
the light of heaven, eat and drink, attend scenes of 
amusement, and go on parties of pleasure, pass the 
night in revelling and the day in dozing. But in 
these respects what pre-eminence have they over 
the beasts that perish ? Is this the life of a ration- 
al, moral being, the heir of eternity, a creature 
formed in the image of the Creator, with a capacity 
to know and imitate his moral perfections ? 

If we would so live as to answer the great 
purposes of life, we must live to the honour of our 



LOVE OF PLEASURE, 259 

Maker, to the benefit of our fellow-creatures, and 
so as to secure our own most substantial and dura- 
ble felicity. In the total neglect of these objects, 
must we not be dead while we live, dead to God, 
to society, and to our own most valuable interests ? 
Can they who live in sensual pleasure live to God ? 
Alas ! he is not in all their thoughts. They live 
as if there w r ere no God. To themselves, to their 
own consciences, they cannot justify their manner 
of life, but on the principles of atheism. To God, 
then, they are dead, as they yield no fruit to his 
honour, no praise to his name ; nay, worse than dead, 
as their whole lives are a continued series of dis- 
honour to him, of reproach to his perfections, of re- 
bellion against his laws, of insult to his government, 
of defiance to his justice and the power of his. 
anger. 

Do they live to the public ? Are they blessings 
to the world and useful to society ? On the con- 
trary, are not drunkards, gamblers, idlers, spend- 
thrifts, with every description of sensualists and 
voluptuaries, so many nuisances in the world, the 
corrupters of good morals and manners, the ring- 
leaders in vice and licentiousness, the bane of every 
community, — infectious and pestilential wherever 
they reside ? 

To their virtuous relations and friends they arc 
also dead, and worse than dead. What complicat- 
ed misery and wretchedness overwhelm the wife 



260 



LOVE OF PLEASURE. 



who has the misfortune of being united to a hus- 
band of their character ! What loathing and dis- 
gust must the husband feel towards a wife who is 
either unchaste or intemperate ! If virtuous and 
reputable children see either their father or their 
mother infamous for any vice, is it possible to de- 
pict their blush of confusion, their shame mingled 
with anguish and grief? What parent would 
not rather follow his children to the grave, than 
see them dissolute and licentious, devoted to pleas- 
ure and enslaved to vice ? What satisfaction or 
comfort can brethren and sisters have in one of 
their family who is thus lost to virtue ? In what 
respect or esteem can the sottish creature be held 
by his neighbours around him ? 

As they who live in pleasure are thus dead to 
God, to their fellow creatures, and their friends ; 
so are they with respect to their own best interests 
and welfare. It has been observed already that 
they are spiritually dead. This however, we have 
reason to fear, may be the melancholy case with 
many others besides the sensual and intempe- 
rate — of some who, notwithstanding their spiritual 
death, do yet possess strong powers of intellect and 
live in great distinction among men, acting an im- 
portant part in the affairs of the world, shining on 
the public theatre as heroes and statesmen, or rank- 
ing high in the schools of learning and philosophy. 
Yet it is certain, that by habits of pleasure and 



LOVE OF PLEASURE. 261 

sensual indulgence, when continued for any time, 
the faculties of such men may be, and too often 
are, so impaired and benumbed, so weakened and 
stupified, as totally to destroy their eminence, 
disqualifying them for any office of trust, any 
station of honour, and indeed for any public ap- 
pearance. In fact, when thus debilitated and de- 
based, they are no longer fit to be seen in the land 
of the living. To all sober and decent people, 
their minds, after being drenched in sensuality, be- 
come as offensive, as their bodies will be after they 
shall be physically dead. When young persons 
fall into such habits, though ever so sprightly and 
promising before, their improvements are at once' at 
an end. Henceforward their talents are wrapped in 
a napkin or buried in the earth. They no longer 
encourage the hopes of their friends or the expec- 
tations of the public. Whatever in them was 
splendid and shining before, is now lost in a cloud. 
The morning of their days is overcast ; and the 
remainder of their lives drags on through an untime- 
ly decay, enveloped in mist and gloom. 

With this loss of all energy of mind, they also 
lose a regard for reputation, and become strangely 
insensible to both praise and blame. Though the 
praise of men ought never to be our ruling motive, 
yet it is undoubtedly a suborditate consideration 
with those whose ultimate aim is the divine appro- 
bation. From this latter principle the former nat- 



262 LOVE OF PLEASURE. 

urally arises and is inseparable. They whose 
chief desire is to stand approved in the sight of the 
infinitely wise and good God, cannot be indifferent 
to the approbation of wise and good men. Even 
in those who neither regard God as they ought, 
nor properly distinguish among men from what 
altar the incense of praise arises, there is yet a 
general love of it, which has a mighty influence 
upon their conduct. They are continually asking 
themselves, what will the world think or say of 
such an action ? and if they have be'en occasionally 
betrayed into the commission of any thing disgrace- 
ful, a sense of shame overwhelms them. This 
passion in our nature is placed as one of the guards 
of virtue, or at least, as a powerful restraint to vice. 
It grows with our growth, and is universal, unless 
rooted out by violence against nature. But such 
violence is done by the love of vicious pleasure and 
its continued indulgence ; which gradually extirpate, 
not only all the principles of virtue, but all sense 
of honour, all regard for character. Besotted by 
their lusts, and working greedily " all manner of 
uncleanness," as natural brute beasts, men cease to 
" be ashamed, neither can they blush." Nay, 
sneering at whatever is modest and decent, in de- 
fiance of the opinions of all civilized people, they 
glory in their shame, and boast of their impurities. 
They cannot be ignorant of the general weight of 
censure which they have brought upon themselves, 



LOVE OF PLEASURE. 263 

yet so far "past feeling" are they, that they seem 
not in the least burdened or depressed. " They 
have made their brow as brass, and their neck as 
an iron sinew." 

With respect to their worldly interests, no less 
than to their reputation, they are either dead or evi- 
dently dying. As a warning to all who wish to es- 
cape the evils of poverty, the wisest of men has left 
these maxims on record : " He that loveth pleasure 
shall be a poor man." " The drunkard and glutton 
shall come to poverty." " They who follow after 
vain persons, shall have poverty enough." Nume- 
rous examples verifying these maxims every where 
occur. Of all the causes of poverty in every coun- 
try, none are so general and efficacious as intem- 
perance, luxury, and a round of vain and idle 
company. Through these means we daily see the 
fairest and most ample patrimonies squandered, and 
their young possessors sinking from affluence to 
want, from an elevated condition into one made up 
of meanness, penury, and contempt. Where these 
causes are but partially admitted, they produce 
their effects in a proportionable degree. You can 
scarcely think of an individual within the circle 
of your acquaintance, addicted to either of these 
vices, whose affairs are not under a kind of blast, 
occasioned by his bosom iniquity. 

They who live in pleasure, sacrifice not only 
their characters and estates, but even their healths 



'264 LOVE OF PLEASURE. 

and lives. If during their fits of intoxication no 
fatality sends them drunk into eternity, they soon 
bring upon themselves such a complication of bodily 
infirmities, that, while suffering and wasting away 
under them, they are not unfrequently in a meas- 
ure dead, long before their breath is gone. Our 
constitutions are formed but for moderate and reg- 
ular enjoyments. Intemperance and excess always 
injure them, and hasten on their decay and dissolu- 
tion. Colds, surfeits, indigestions, pleurisies, 
consumptions, dropsies, rheumatisms, apoplexies, 
with many other alarming and mortal diseases, are 
in the train of late hours, sleepless nights, lust, 
debauchery, and riot. How many thousands and 
thousands of well formed, robust young people, be- 
fore they have attained to the meridian of their 
days, have broken down their strength, and fallen 
untimely, and, alas ! unpitied martyrs to these 
follies and vices ! In those instances where they 
have not produced such speedy destruction, they 
have sapped the foundations of life, withered its 
bloom, exhausted its spirits, and left their wretched 
devotees in bitterness to linger out the remainder 
of their days, pining monuments of youthful pro- 
fligacy. 

Dreadful as are these consequences of vicious 
pleasure, the melancholy detail ends not with the 
present life. All the proofs of future existence, 



LOVE OF PLEASURE. 265 

whether from reason or revelation, are so many 
proofs of a second death, of future misery without 
end, in reserve for the openly vicious. Many have 
been the controversies concerning principles of 
faith, and the nature of those spiritual qualifications 
which entitle to life eternal hereafter. Different 
sects and denominations have expressed their ap- 
prehension and concern for what might be the fate 
of their respective opponents at the great day. 
How often has the question been asked, whether 
the man who believes this or disbelieves that* can 
be saved ! But amidst these doubts on other sub- 
jects, nearly all denominations of Christians, and 
even the wiser heathen with them, have agreed 
that there can be no hope in a future state for im~ 
penitent, unreformed sensualists ; that a life of 
vicious pleasure in this world must be followed 
with misery in the next ; that " what a man sow- 
eth, that he must reap ;" that " they who sow to 
the flesh" here, must u of the flesh reap corruption 
hereafter ;" that " the wages of sin is death" — the 
second death. With this horrible prospect beyond 
the grave, made indubitably certain by the vices in 
which he has indulged, what must be the situation 
of the once gay man of pleasure, in the season of 
languishing illness and in the near view of approach- 
ing death ? Such a season will infallibly arrive. His 
intemperance and excess will hasten it on, shorten 
his days, and bring death more speedily to his door. 
34 



266 LOVE OF PLEASURE. 

Nay, the period may be probably nigh at hand, 
when a complication of bodily disorders shall seclude 
him from the world, from all the objects and pur- 
suits on which his thoughts are now dissipated, from 
his bewitching amusements, infidel associates, and 
sensual pleasures ; when he shall be given up a 
prey to his own reflections, to the anguish of a self- 
condemning mind, and the terrors of an awaken- 
ed conscience, forestalling his final doom. Here- 
tofore he has been accustomed to act in a crowd, 
and had partners in every scene ; but now he is 
left to act alone the last sad, solemn scene. 

Of what avail is a life of pleasure, if it thus 
embitters death, plants thorns on the dying pillow, 
and pierces the bosom with anguish and despair ? 
If it does not always present this spectacle of hor- 
ror to its wretched votary, the reason is, because 
the sensualist is " dead, while he yet lives," — be- 
cause his sensibility is destroyed, and his faculties 
are so benumbed and stupified, that he is no longer 
capable of reflection. But surely in the eye of rea- 
son and religion, the reality of his danger and the 
dreadfulness of his situation, are not the less, on ac- 
count of his stupidity, the reprobate state of his 
mind, and the searedness of his conscience. 

In setting before you, my hearers, these effects 
and consequences of sensual indulgence, dreadful 
and alarming as they are, it can scarcely be hoped 
that any lasting impression will be made upon those 



LOVE OF PLEASURE. 267 

whose habits of vice are already fixed. For who 
or what can alter the skin of the iEthiop, or take 
out the spots of the leopard ? But may it not be 
hoped that some who have been only occasionally se- 
duced, may henceforward be deterred from the paths 
of the sorceress, and put upon their guard against 
the allurements of guilty pleasure ? In special, 
may it not be hoped that those young people among 
us who are as yet in a measure uncorrupted, will 
receive the warning, and by fleeing youthful lusts 
and their attendant pollutions, preserve their inno- 
cence ? Should temptation assail you, my young 
friends, should sensual pleasure, that enchanting 
harlot, spread her allurements for you, — will you 
not call to mind what you have now heard of the 
dreadful calamities which follow her footsteps ? 
Will you not remember that by being taken in her 
embraces, you will be despoiled of your health, of 
your substance, of your reputation, of your energy 
and peace of mind, of all solid comfort and enjoy- 
ment, as well as of all usefulness in life and of all 
hope in death? " For her house is the way to 
hell, and her feet go down to the second death." 

As your period of age peculiarly exposes you 
to her snares, the greater vigilance and circum- 
spection are necessary to your safety. You can- 
not look with an eye of too great suspicion on that 
flowery path where death lies in ambush. You 
cannot be too cautious of that company, of those 



268 LOVE OF PLEASURE. 

places and occasions, amusements and habits, by 
which many others have been gradually seduced 
and ruined. Above all things, avoid idleness. 
Never suffer yourselves, under any pretence, to 
saunter or trifle away your time. Let every day, 
and every hour of the day, be spent in improving 
your minds or your circumstances, or in being use- 
ful to others. Pursue with unremitting diligence 
your professional studies and the business of your 
respective callings in life. Establish habits of in- 
dustry. They who are always engaged in worthy 
and laudable pursuits, are generally out of the way 
of temptation. 

Let me entreat you, finally, to accompany your 
other precautions with a spirit of devotion to God. 
The quickening influence of his grace will effectually 
secure you. For ." the fear of the Lord is a foun- 
tain of life, to depart from the snares of death." 



SERMON XV. 



TO THE YOUNG. 



LUKE ii. 52. 



And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and 
in favour with God and man. 

With these words it is proposed to introduce 
a discourse to children and youth; and call their 
attention to an example the most worthy of their 
imitation. In the life of Christ, we behold an 
exemplification of whatever is amiable and excel- 
lent in a human character. To set such a model 
before us was undoubtedly a part of the design of 
Jiis mission. It is indeed but little that is record- 
ed of him during the interval from his birth to his 
entrance on his public ministry. Yet this little is 
sufficient to satisfy us, that, through this early 
period of his age, he conducted with perfect pro- 
priety, made a rapid progress in all those accom- 
plishments which dignify and adorn our rational 
nature ; and by his proficiency in these things, is 



270 tO THE YOUNG. 

a pattern after which it is the duty, and will be 
the wisdom and honour, of all young persons most 
diligently to copy. How much is implied in the 
brief account which St. Luke gives of his youthful 
years in the text ! " He increased in wisdom 
and stature, and in favour with God and man." 

My young friends, can you think of any thing 
more excellent or more desirable, than to be what 
the Evangelist here affirms your Saviour was at 
your age ? Do you not wish, that, as your bodies 
increase in stature and rise towards maturity, so 
your minds may improve in wisdom and knowl- 
edge, in all those intellectual, religious, and moral 
attainments, which will at once recommend you to 
the favour of God, your adorable Creator, and to 
the esteem and regard of your fellow-men ? 

If you aspire at these attainments, if so noble 
an ambition glow in your bosoms, let me remind 
you, 

First, How necessary it is, that piety to God 
be the ruling principle of your hearts and lives — 
that your heavenly Father be the object of your 
supreme respect, and his approbation your chief 
and ultimate aim. We are no sooner capable of 
knowing God, than we ought to feel our obliga- 
tions thus to regard him. To love him with all 
our heart, soul, strength, and mind, is the first 
and great command. The life of Christ was a 
continued series of perfect obedience to this most 



TO THE YOUNG. 271 

comprehensive precept. In his early childhood, 
piety and devotion were his prevailing temper ; and 
continued to be more and more displayed as he 
advanced in the progress of life. It was by the 
exercise and display of such a temper, by his 
cheerful and unreserved obedience to the divine 
will, and his growing delight in holding converse 
with his heavenly Father, that he so speedily 
advanced into peculiar favour with the Almighty. 
All this is evidently implied in the language of the 
text. But in the preceding context, we have a 
remarkable instance of the warmth and zeal for 
the divine honour and service, which possessed 
and animated his youthful mind. He was but 
twelve years old when his parents took him with 
them in their annual journey to celebrate the pass- 
over at Jerusalem. With the solemnities of this 
religious festival, and the sacred entertainments of 
the temple, he was so charmed and delighted, that, 
in the enjoyment of them, he seemed to forget all 
other objects and concerns. At the end of the 
days of unleavened bread, his parents set out on 
their return home, and supposing him to be in the 
company of their acquaintance, had proceeded a 
day's journey before they were convinced that he 
was really missing. With no small anxiety they 
went back, solicitously inquiring and searching for 
him. On the third day, to their joyful surprise, 
they discovered him in an apartment of the temple. 



272 TO THE YOUNG. 

where young persons were accustomed to attend the 
lectures given by the learned teachers of the divine 
law. To the reprehensive expostulations of his 
mother on that occasion, he gave this memorable 
answer, — " Wherefore did ye seek me with such 
anxiety ? Did ye not know that I ought to be 
at my Father's house, or busy in his service ?" 
What attachment to God and divine things, must 
have possessed the heart of the child who was 
capable of making such a reply ! How wholly 
devoted must he have been to the concerns of 
religion and the glory of God ! 

Opposite as these things are to the prevailing 
disposition of young persons in general, it may not 
be amiss for them seriously to ask themselves, 
whether this example of their blessed Redeemer 
be not worthy of their imitation ; — whether some- 
thing of the sanie'pious and devout temper in them 
would not be perfectly suitable to their relation to 
God as his rational offspring, to the obligations 
they are under to him for his innumerable mercies, 
and to their hopes and expectations from him as 
probationers for eternity. 

Tell me, children and youth, when, in remem- 
bering your Creator, you think of the beautiful 
and well formed bodies which he has given you, 
the understanding and reason with which he has 
inspired you, the spacious and well furnished 
world in which he has placed you, the daily pro- 



TO THE YOUNG. 



273 



vision which his providence makes for your sup- 
port, comfort, and pleasure ; and above all, the 
eternal redemption of your souls by the sufferings 
and death of his Son ; — when you review these your 
obligations to God, do not reason and conscience 
call you, and the ingenuity of your nature prompt 
you, to all possible returns of love and gratitude ? 
Must you not feel your obligations to make him 
the object of your supreme affection and entire 
devotion ? And if, with your whole heart, you 
thus love God, will you not, of course, love 
religion, and make conscience of all its various 
duties ? Will you not, like your Saviour, love the 
house, the day, and all the ordinances of God ? 
Will you not delight in prayer and praise, begin- 
ning and closing each successive day with acts of 
devotion ; and by this continual intercourse with 
your heavenly Father, tread in the steps of him 
who has gone before you in the journey of life, that 
he might show you the way to grow in favour both 
with God and the people of God ? But again, 

Secondly, When it is said, in the text, of the 
child Jesus, that he " grew in wisdom," the inti- 
mation is, that he made an extraordinary proficien- 
cy in knowledge, especially in the knowledge of 
religion. We are led to conceive of him as dis- 
covering early marks of a sublime and heavenly 
genius, and as being distinguished, while yet a 
child, for rare and eminent attainments in knowl- 
35 



274 TO THE YOUNG. 

edge and piety. As the grace of God was upon 
him in an extraordinary manner, it was no doubt 
through supernatural assistance, that he so early 
attained to an unrivalled eminence in intellectual 
and spiritual accomplishments. 

But whatever communications he received from 
above, yet he diligently attended those means of 
information and instruction, which were open to 
others, and by which it was intended that the 
youth in general should be trained up for usefulness 
in this world, and happiness in the next. He 
omitted no opportunity, in this way, to increase 
his stock of knowledge. In his first visit to the 
temple just mentioned, he took his place among 
other youths at the feet of the doctors, both hear- 
ing them and asking them questions. And so just 
and pertinent were his answers, and such discern- 
ment and penetration appeared in the questions 
which he put on that occasion, that all who heard 
him were in a transport of admiration at the un- 
derstanding which he discovered. 

My young friends, what a charming, what a 
most alluring example is here presented for your 
imitation ! Do you not feel an ambition to copy 
after the holy child Jesus, in those mental improve- 
ments by which human beings are distinguished 
from every other species of creatures on this earth ? 
Are you not desirous, like your blessed Saviour, 
to excel in knowledge ? Look on those parts of 



TO THE YOUNG. 275 

the earth which are left wild and uncultivated! 
Compare their barren state, or their useless growth, 
with the gardens, orchards, fields, and meadows, 
which are all flourishing under the improvements 
of husbandry. In the one, you have often a 
spectacle of horror ; in the other, a most lovely, 
cheerful, and delightful prospect. Be assured, 
the difference is not less striking and manifest 
between those children who grow up in ignorance, 
vice, and superstition, and those who are trained 
up in all the branches of useful science, and in the 
knowledge of true religion. Instinct is sufficient 
to direct the beasts, the birds, and fishes to the 
end for which they are made ; but the human race 
are to attain this end through the exercise of rea- 
son, availing itself of all the aid and assistance 
within its reach. In children, the powers of reason 
are at first feeble, and unless guided by instruc- 
tion, and strengthened by virtuous education, 
are often overborne by those headstrong passions 
and lusts which issue in their ruin. Great care, 
strict discipline, and much instruction are requisite, 
to form young minds to a proper degree of knowl- 
edge in the things pertaining to their present tem- 
poral interest ; and to those habits of industry, 
prudence, economy, sobriety, and publicspirited- 
ness which are necessary to their passing reputably 
through life. Education in these things, makes 
that amazing distinction which is visible between 
civilized nations and the wild savages of the desert. 



276 TO THE YOUNG. 

But of all knowledge, that of true religion 
is infinitely the most important. Children, from 
their early infancy, begin by degrees to manifest 
a principle within them, which will not be extin- 
guished with the flame of animal life. The looks 
which they raise towards heaven, and the tears 
which bedew their cradle, speak them allied to the 
world of spirits. The light of nature as well as 
revelation, proclaims them the heirs of immortality, 
cast upon this earth to act a part which shall fit 
them for endless weal or wo hereafter. They 
no sooner begin to act as accountable creatures 
than they set out on a journey to heaven or to hell. 
How amazing is the difference between these two 
directions ! How inconceivably interesting must 
it be, in which of them they proceed ! What 
wisdom can be comparable to that which prompts 
them to attend to the things which belong to their 
everlasting peace, and to walk in the way which 
leads to heavenly felicity ? If they are seen thus 
early entering the strait gate, and walking in the 
narrow way ; remembering their Creator, seeking 
the knowledge of him, and consecrating themselves 
to his service ; how peculiarly acceptable will 
they be in his sight, and in what estimation will 
they be held by the wise and good among men ! 

Thirdly, If children and youth would, like 
their blessed Redeemer, grow in favour with God and 
man, it is also necessary that they follow the exam- 



TO THE YOUNG. 277 

pie which he has set them of filial duty and obe- 
dience. Though he was in the form of God, and 
thought it not robbery to be equal with God, yet 
after he had condescended to take upon him the 
form a servant, and appear in fashion as a man — 
being in his human nature a child born, having a 
real mother and a reputed father, — to these^ his 
earthly parents, he never in any instance failed of 
paying all due submission and respect. What has 
been just noticed of his tarrying behind at Jerusa- 
lem, after they had set out on their return home, 
was most probably in obedience to the will of his 
heavenly Father, and by his special direction. 
This seems to be implied in his answer to the 
expostulations of his mother on that occasion. 
The Evangelist leaves no room for suspecting him 
of disregarding the parental authority, when he goes 
on to inform us, that " he went down with them 
to Nazareth, and continued subject unto them," 
through the period of his minority. And that he 
never, through his whole life, ceased his filial atten- 
tion and respect, may be conclusively inferred from 
the tender and affectionate manner, in which, at his 
death, he committed his mother to the care of his 
beloved disciple St. John. Amidst all the exquisite 
tortures of the cross, seeing his mother and this 
disciple standing by, " he saith unto his mother, 
Woman, behold thy son. Then saith he to the 
disciple, Behold thy mother. And from that hour 



278 TO THE YOUNG. 

that disciple took her to his own home*' 7 Can 
language describe, or imagination conceive, a scene 
more tender and affecting, or a stronger expression 
of filial regard ? 

What he was in this respect, his religion re- 
quires all his disciples to be. It expressly enjoins : 
" Children, obey your parents in the Lord ; for this 
is right. Obey them in all things ; for this is well 
pleasing to the Lord." To his own amiable ex- 
ample, his high authority is added, to render us 
steady and persevering in the discharge of filial 
duty. During the period of childhood, this duty 
consists in a ready and implicit submission to the 
parental will. Through the tender age, and before 
children have arrived to years of discretion, it is 
in itself proper and fit that their inclinations should 
be restrained, and their employments directed, by 
the superior wisdom of their parents. 

After they have reached maturity, if they 
continue voluntary members of their father's fam- 
ily, they are bound to conform to its regulations, 
and contribute to its support. Through life indeed, 
filial gratitude will be expressed, and show itself 
in compliances with the will of parents in what- 
ever is lawful and consistent with the child's own 
happiness — u in a constant endeavour to promote 
their enjoyments, prevent their wishes, and soften 
their anxieties ; in waiting upon their sickness or 
decrepitude ; in bearing with the infirmities of 



TO THE YOUNG. 279 

their health or temper, with the peevishness and 
complaints, the unfashionable, negligent, austere 
manners, and offensive habits, which attend upon 
advanced years; for where must old age find 
indulgence, if it does not meet with it in the piety 
and partiality of children ?" 

Nor will all this be thought too much by that 
child, who remembers his obligations to those 
tender and affectionate parents, who nursed his 
infancy, watched over his childhood, guided his 
youth ; and with incessant care and anxiety for 
his welfare, carried him on through the several 
stages of education, till at length they introduced 
him to the world, with every advantage which it 
was in their power to give. Can such benefits be 
repaid ? Can any returns be equal to the obliga- 
tions received ? Must not those children be 
unnatural monsters, who requite them with unduti- 
fulness, ingratitude, and contempt ? Will not such 
impiety be avoided by all who hope for the favour 
of God, or wish for the esteem of men ? In what 
way can any give so decisive a proof of an ingen- 
uous and amiable temper, as by being distinguished 
for their dutifulness, for their submissive, re- 
spectful, and affectionate behaviour towards their 
parents ? 

Fourthly, When it is said, in the text, of the 
child Jesus, that " he grew in favour with God and 
man," we are led to conceive of him as early 



280 TO THE YOUNG. 

distinguished and eminent for the virtues of dil- 
igence, humility, modesty, meekness, modera- 
tion, truth, and benevolence. In each of these 
respects, young persons should consider him as 
their model and great exemplar. From the pover- 
ty of his parents and his subjection to them, we 
have reason to believe that his youthful days were 
industriously spent in labouring for the common 
support of the family. He probably embraced the 
occupation of his supposed father, and through all 
the earlier stages of his life, to the period of his 
public ministry, prosecuted the laborious employ- 
ment of a carpenter. 

Such are the circumstances of our situation in 
the present world, that more than nine tenths of 
mankind are obliged to earn their bread by the 
sweat of their brow. Their most necessary affairs, 
and the business of their respective trades and 
callings, cannot be carried on without a degree of 
hard labour. It is the study of many persons to 
shun as much of this as possible. But if the son 
of God, when he had become the son of man, did 
not decline it, if he submitted with his own hands 
to work at one of our most ordinary and toilsome 
occupations, is it becoming or decent in us to dis- 
dain any service to which we are called by the 
lot assigned us in the world ? To what purpose 
are our hands and strength of body, if they are not 
to be applied to labour ? Though our condition 



TO THE YOUNG. 281 

should be so affluent, as to set us above the neces- 
sity of working for our subsistence ; yet we cannot 
be excused from diligence in some useful employ- 
ment or profession. Idleness and sloth are in 
themselves vicious, the inlets of temptation, and 
the source of those manifold corruptions which defile 
the mind, injure the body, and bring on a general 
depravation of character. The improvement of our 
minds, our general usefulness in the world, and 
proficiency in moral goodness, render habits of 
industry indispensably incumbent upon every one. 
Nothing is of greater importance in the iducation 
of youth, than the early inuring of them to such 
habits. Constant exercise and employment will 
strengthen all their faculties, both of body and 
mind. And by diligence and ardour in prosecuting 
the great purposes of life, the duties both of their 
civil calling and of their christian character, they 
will become qualified for the trust and confidence 
of their fellow-creatures, and for the favour and 
approbation of their Maker. 

But, my young friends, your blessed Redeemer 
was not only diligent, but humble, modest, meek, 
and moderate with respect to all worldly objects 
and enjoyments. The principles of these virtues, 
which were so admirably displayed through the 
whole tenor of his life, must have had their founda- 
tion in his early youth. They grew up with him 
from his very infancy, and increased the lustre of his 
36 



282 TO THE YOUNG. 

character more and more, in proportion as his fac- 
ulties opened, and he came forward to take a part 
in the intercourse of society. In him, while yet 
a child, there appeared nothing in the least savour- 
ing of pride and vanity ; nothing pert, forward, 
or assuming ; nothing peevish, hasty, rash, or re- 
sentful ; no violence of passion ; no unruliness of 
appetite ; no sullenness of temper ; no marks of 
discontent or of dissatisfaction ; he uttered no 
murmuring word ; he indulged no repining 
thoughts ; he expressed no desire for any thing 
improper for him. From all these things, which 
are the common spots and blemishes in the charac- 
ter of other children, the holy child Jesus was 
perfectly free. Possessing an entire equanimity, 
he was always easy and contented with what- 
ever was allotted him — always calm, serene, and 
undisturbed, whatever restraints were imposed 
upon him, whatever provocations were offered him, 
or whatever accidents befell him. In patience he 
possessed his soul on every occasion. Though he 
was the great, the promised Messiah, the son of 
God, and heir of all things, yet he claimed none of 
the prerogatives which might seem due to his high 
dignity. Instead of being ministered unto, he 
condescended to minister to others, and became 
the servant of all. With an understanding and 
genius which astonished the doctors of the temple, 
and which might easily have eclipsed all the most 



TO THE YOUNG. 283 

celebrated poets, orators, and philosophers of the 
world, and procured him the highest worldly dis- 
tinction, he forebore all views of the kind ; and 
that he might fulfil the duties of the humble rank 
assigned him by infinite wisdom, he passed his 
youth in obscurity, amidst the difficulties and la- 
bours of poverty. 

Tell me, children, are you not charmed with 
the beauties of this most amiable, most lovely 
character ? Can you wonder that such a youth 
became the favourite of both God and man ? If, 
then, you admire his virtues, will you not strive to 
imitate them ? Will you not take him for your 
model, and study to be as nearly as possible what 
he was ? Are you not conscious of dispositions in 
yourselves very different and opposite to the meek, 
humble, patient, and submissive temper of your 
blessed Redeemer ? Have not your actions and 
expressions on several occasions, been very differ- 
ent from what such a temper would have dictated ? 
Do you not blush to remember these your imperfec- 
tions ? Will you not, with the utmost vigilance and 
resolution, endeavour to correct and avoid them for 
the future, — daily praying to God for the assistance 
of his grace, to render your endeavours successful ? 

Among the various excellencies in the charac- 
ter of Jesus, which I am recommending to your 
imitation, you must remember that his sincerity, 
truth, and benevolence are not the least. He was 



284 TO THE YOUNG. 

truth itself, in whose heart no thought of deceit 
was ever conceived, and in " whose mouth no 
guile was ever found." In this respect, while he 
dwelt among men on earth, we beheld in him the 
brightness of his Father's glory, and the express 
image of his person. In proportion to our abhor- 
rence of every species of falsehood and deceit, 
and to the strength of our attachment to truth and 
strict observance of it in all our words and actions, 
will be our resemblance to God and Christ. I 
will not wound the feelings of my young auditors, 
by supposing them capable of bringing upon them- 
selves the debasement, the odium, guilt, and defor- 
mity inseparable from a habit of falsehood. May 
I not hope, that by having their conversation at all 
times in simplicity and godly sincerity, they will 
show themselves to be " Israelites indeed, in whom 
is no guile ?" 

Children and youth, your character for what- 
ever is amiable and excellent will be complete, if, 
with the particulars already mentioned, you are 
also careful to imitate the compassion and benev- 
olence of your Redeemer. In no son or daughter 
of Adam before or since, were ever found such 
.sweetness of disposition, such kindness of heart, 
such generosity of soul, such readiness to every 
humane, every benevolent action and office, — such 
delight in doing good. While he was yet a child, 
and during the privacy of his youth, his bosom glow- 



TO THE YOUNG. 285 

ed with the same good will to men, which was after- 
wards display ed in his public ministry, when, through 
its whole course, he "went about doing good." 
Nay, it was love, surprising, astonishing love, which, 
inducing the son of God to become the son of man, 
animated him in all he did and in all he suffered, 
from his birth in a manger, to his death on the 
cross. His motive to all this, was our salvation, our 
deliverance from the second death, and exaltation to 
life eternal in heaven. By the whole tenor of his 
religion, he says to us, and by all the hopes which 
his religion sets before us, he enforces the saying, 
" Do to each other as I have done to you. — Love 
one another as I have loved you." 

My dear young friends, in proportion as you 
comply with these injunctions, and excel in the 
observance of them, as you thus tread in the steps, 
and copy the example of your benevolent Saviour ; 
as your hearts expand in universal love and good 
will, and your lives are filled up with offices of 
kindness and acts of beneficence ; you will grow 
in favour with God and man, be fashioned into 
the image of Christ, and through him become the 
adopted children of his heavenly Father, precious 
as jewels in his sight, and dear to him as the apple 
of his eye. 

The subject of this discourse teaches fathers 
and mothers, heads of families, guardians, precept- 
ors, tutors, all to whom the care of children is 



286 TO THE YOUNG. 

committed, what should be the great object con- 
stantly aimed at in their education, namely, to 
form them into a resemblance of Christ — to the 
knowledge and to the practice of his religion. This 
is the only sure foundation on which their present 
and future happiness can be built. All other 
knowledge, all other accomplishments, are nothing 
in comparison with this. May our care and at- 
tention in this respect, bear some proportion to its 
infinite importance ! 

My associates in this weighty concern, you 
who share with me in the charge of the rising 
generation, let me remind you and myself that 
nothing will have so happy a tendency to im- 
press on the minds of our children the instructions 
now inculcated, as the exemplification of them in 
our own lives. The advice now given to them, 
in almost every particular, is applicable to ourselves, 
and as essential to our happiness as it is to theirs. 
Nor will they believe that we are in earnest in 
urging it upon them, if we neglect it ourselves. 
But if they see us putting on Christ, making him 
our model, conforming our temper, conversation, 
and conduct to his example, transcribing the excel- 
lencies of his character into our own, and adorning 
our lives with the virtues and graces of his religion, 
— their regard for us will be an additional motive 
to them to join with us in following our common 
Lord and Saviour. May God of his infinite mercy 



TO THE YOUNG. 287 

grant that we may all, both parents and children, 
so follow him as to be owned by him hereafter, 
and welcomed into those mansions which he is 
gone to prepare, that where he is, we may be also ! 



SERMON XVI. 



TO THE AGED. 



2 SAMUEL xix. 34—37. 



And Barzillai said unto the king, How long have 
I to live, that I should go up with the king 
unto Jerusalem ? 

I am this day fourscore years old ; and can I dis- 
cern between good and evil f can thy servant 
taste what I eat, or what I drink f can I hear 
any more the voice of singing -men and singing- 
women ? Wherefore then should thy servant 
be yet a burden unto my lord the king ? 

Thy servant will go a little way over Jordan with 
the king ; and why should the king recom- 
pense it me with such a reward ? 

Let thy servant, I pray thee, turn back again, 
that I may die in mine own city, and be buried 
by the grave of my father and of my mother. 

In this account which Barzillai gives of himself, 
we have at once a natural and a most pleasing de- 
scription of discreet and virtuous old age. This re- 



TO THE AGED. 289 

spectable personage, amidst the general rebellion of 
his countrymen, had steadily persevered in his allegi- 
ance to the government of his sovereign ; and being 
very rich, had furnished the fugitive king, during 
the period of his distress and exile, with the most 
important supplies. The rebellion was now at an 
end, and the lately abandoned monarch was return- 
ing home in triumph to his capital, amidst the gen- 
eral joy and acclamations of that very people who, 
but a few days or weeks before, had joined against 
him in battle array. At this happy turn of the 
public affairs, the heart of Barzillai leaped for joy ; 
and old as he was, he made a great effort to join 
in the general congratulations to his lawful sovereign. 
So just and pious a prince as David, could not for- 
get the obligations which he had received from so 
faithful and generous a subject. He was in haste 
to requite them in a princely manner. At the first 
sight of this old friend, he instantly proposed that 
he should accompany him to his palace, and there 
spend the remainder of his days in the pleasures, 
amusements, and splendour of the court. 

To this proposal our text is the answer. " Bar- 
zillai said unto the king, how long have I to live, 
that I should go up with the king unto Jerusalem ? 
I am this day fourscore years old." What thought- 
fulness and consideration, what gravity and wisdom 
are implied in this language ! How very different 
from the weakness, if not sinfulness betrayed by 
37 



290 TO THE AGED. 

many persons advanced in years, who seem loath to 
remember themselves, and afraid that others should 
know, how old they are ! This they industriously 
conceal as a secret which, if divulged, might ex- 
pose them to contempt, or debar them of pleasures 
in which they still choose to partake. While drain- 
ing out the dregs of life and waiting the fall of a 
few remaining sands in their glass, they seem anx- 
ious to have it thought that they are still in their 
prime ; as capable as ever, either of the business 
or of the pleasures of the world. The dignity, 
authority, and respectability which nature has at- 
tached to old age when honourably supported, these 
foolish persons " resign for that absurd affectation 
of youth, which can only render them ridiculous." 
While they are as eager *js ever in their worldly 
pursuits, or as constant as ever in attending scenes 
of amusement, of mirth, and gaiety, in adopting the 
fashion of present times and affecting the airs and 
manners of youth — their hoary locks, furrowed 
brows, and tottering steps, are visible to all but 
themselves. 

Contrasted with characters like these, how ration- 
al and dignified are the language and sentiments 
of Barzillai ! Standing on the utmost boundary 
of human life, he chooses to keep the closing scene 
constantly in view, and dreads that change of situa- 
tion in which he might for a moment lose sight of 
it. " How long have I to live, that I should go 



TO THEAGED. 291 

up with the king to Jerusalem ?" It would be 
wholly unbecoming my advanced years to mingle 
in the gaieties and splendour of a court, or to un- 
dertake the duties of any of the great offices of 
state. As " I am this day fourscore years old," 
to the present generation I am in a great measure 
a stranger. The most of my contemporaries have 
been long since numbered with the dead. The 
shades of my former friends and acquaintance seem 
to hover around me and beckon me to follow them. 
My age and growing infirmities require that I should 
be wholly disentangled from public affairs and but 
rarely appear on any public occasion. Retirement, 
solitude, and serious meditation on that world to 
the borders of which I have made so near an ap- 
proach, are now my duty. While I gratefully ac- 
knowledge, I must crave permission to decline, the 
kind invitation of my sovereign, as nature has ren- 
dered me incapable of enjoying the happiness which 
it proposes. " Can I any longer discern between 
good and evil ? Can thy servant taste what I eat 
or what I drink ? Can I hear any more the voice 
of singing-men and singing-women ? Wherefore 
then should thy servant be yet a burden unto 
my lord the king ? Thy servant will go a little 
way over Jordan with the king ; and why should the 
king recompense it me with such a reward ? Let 
thy servant, I pray thee, turn back again, that I 
may die in mine own city, and be buried by the 
grave of my father and of my mother." 



292 TO THE AGED. 

With what perfect approbation do we read these 
sentiments of the good old man ! Who does not 
applaud his resolution in declining the offers of the 
king ? And how just and natural is his attachment 
to the city of his father's sepulchre, and his desire 
to be buried by the grave of his father and his 
mother ! The general tenor of his speech on this oc- 
casion leads the mind to serious reflection, and to 
the contemplation of various scenes and objects of 
pleasing melancholy. It sets before us an affecting 
picture of what must terminate the journey of 
the most prosperous and successful passengers 
through this life. However fortunate their course 
may be, whatever gratifications and comforts may 
be experienced in the early and middle stages ; 
yet infelicities are inseparable from some of its last 
scenes, and the conclusion is always gloomy to the 
apprehension of the living. We rarely see an ex- 
ample of fourscore years attended with so many 
agreeable circumstances as this of Barzillai ; yet 
he himself assures us that many evils encompassed 
and oppressed him, from which he had no prospect 
of relief but in the grave. 

There are, however, considerations which seem 
to render the surviving to old age desirable. That 
this desire is general in mankind, needs no proof. 
Its strength and fervency are felt by us all. It arises 
from the first and strongest principle in our nature, 
the principle of self-preservation. Nor are we at 



TO THE AGED. £93 

a loss for specious reasons to justify the cherishing 
of such a desire. Though we cannot pretend to 
immortality in the present world, and our reason 
can furnish no argument on which to found such a 
pretence or wish ; yet, when we see all things 
around us in the vegetative and animal creation, 
having their distinct seasons for growth, maturity, 
and gradual decay ; the desire of passing through 
each of these seasons ourselves, and of arriving at 
our end in the path thus marked out by this uni- 
versal law, seems both natural and rational. In 
old people this desire is gratified, and they ought 
to be peculiarly thankful for an indulgence which 
is afforded to but few comparatively. Nay at this 
period " there ought to be a satiety of life, as there 
is of all other things ;" and death, instead of being 
thought of with horror, should be expected as a 
welcome release from a long and tedious pilgrim- 
age in a foreign country. For what more can na- 
ture or reason prompt us to wish, than " to come 
to the grave in a full age, like as a shock of corn 
cometh in, in its season ?" 

Our natural desire of reaching this last stage 
of human existence, is strengthened by all those 
objects and concerns which make up our chief in- 
terest and happiness in the present world. To 
accumulate property, educate our children, establish 
them in families, secure an easy and comfortable 
situation for ourselves, and see our posterity increas- 



294 ' TO THE AGED. 

ing and flourishing around us — are natural, and, 
when duly moderated, rational and innocent desires. 
As a life protracted to the common age of man is 
usually necessary in order to the attainment of these 
objects, the latter are of course, so many additional 
motives inducing us to wish for length of days. A 
premature death would blast all our temporal hopes 
and expectations, and pour contempt upon all our 
worldly projects and pursuits. As this often occurs, 
as melancholy examples of it are daily taking place, 
the few who, amidst the general wreck, are suffer- 
ed to survive to old age, ought not to be insensible 
of the distinction in their favour. And if to length 
of days a series of worldly success and prosperity 
is added, such persons, with respect to temporal 
happiness, must be esteemed the most favoured of 
mortals. In each of these respects the citizen of 
Rogelim in the text, was remarkably blessed. As 
he had probably been, through the course of a long 
life, a man of great industry, prudence, and good 
management, he had become very rich. And he 
was never perhaps so sensible of the value of his 
riches, as when they enabled him to succour fallen 
greatness, relieve oppressed goodness and piety, and 
sustain the tottering liberties of his country in the 
person of a sovereign, the most worthy that had 
ever swayed the sceptre over any nation. When 
the opportunity occurred for such great and exten- 
sive usefulness, this good man found that his life 



TO THE AGED. 295 

had not been prolonged in vain. He doubtless 
considered it as among the most eminent instances 
of the divine goodness to him, that he had at once 
an heart and ability to come forward on so great 
and urgent an occasion. 

We may therefore add, that they who thus 
survive to old age, have thereby the opportunity of 
tasting more fully the goodness of God in the bless- 
ings of the present life, and of experiencing more 
largely the care and kindness of his universal provi- 
dence. We all indeed, on our first entrance into 
life, are the objects of his care and receive all our 
supplies from his munificence. The guardianship 
which is exercised over our tender years, and the 
provision then made both for the nourishment and 
growth of our bodies, and for the education and 
improvement of our minds, ought, through our 
whole succeeding course, to be often recollected 
by us with the most grateful emotions. But it is 
certain that the longer we live, the more we receive 
from God. His mercies are multiplied upon us 
with the multiplied moments of our lives. They 
who live on to old age, must, of course, have the 
most abundant experience of his goodness. It is 
through help obtained from him, that they are en- 
abled for such a course of years, to escape the 
shafts and arrows of death which are constantly 
flying around them. How oft must they have 
been in situations in which there was but a step 



296 



TO THE AGED. 



between them and death ! They cannot say from 
how many dangers they have been saved, of which 
they were not themselves aware, and at the time 
had not the least apprehension. As much is requir- 
ed of those to whom much is given, they who 
have been thus continually receiving, through the 
course of a long life, innumerable mercies, deliver- 
ances, and salvations from God — who have seen 
and experienced so much of his goodness, ought 
in a proportionable degree to rejoice in him, and 
feel the pleasing emotions of love and gratitude, of 
thanksgiving and praise. 

But the consideration which, above all others, 
renders the surviving to old age desirable, is the 
opportunity which it affords for rising to higher 
degrees of religious knowledge, making greater 
attainments in christian piety, bringing forth more 
fruit to the glory of God and the benefit of our fel- 
low-men, and by these means securing our title to, 
and qualifying ourselves for, life eternal in the com- 
ing world. As christians and probationers for eter- 
nity, we are constrained to view these as the great 
purposes for which life and time are given. In 
this view every day and hour are precious beyond 
all estimation. Tfje indulgence of a long life is a 
privilege, the right or ill improvement of which will 
exceedingly enhance our future happiness or misery. 
Sincere christians are not insensible of this worth 
of time, considered in its relation to eternity. It 



TO THE AGED. 297 

is their daily prayer and endeavour, the longer they 
live, the more to abound in the virtues and graces 
of their christian character and profession. And it 
may generally be supposed that, if they thus con- 
tinue patient in well-doing from youth even to old 
age, all the principles of holiness in their hearts, 
and the habits of piety and goodness in their lives, 
will become more firm and established ; that their 
hoary heads being thus found in the way of right- 
eousness, will be crowned with peculiar glory and 
honour ; and at death, being thus ripe in grace as 
well as in years, they will have an abundant entrance 
ministered unto them into the everlasting kingdom 
of their God and Saviour. What wise and good 
man would not wish thus to live and thus to die ? 
How desirable is life protracted to old age, if it be 
thus spent in a preparation for death, in laying up 
in store for ourselves a good foundation for the hope 
of life eternal, in accumulating treasures in heaven 
and in making our calling and election sure ! Such, 
my hearers, are the considerations which seem to 
justify our natural desire of living to old age. 

But having viewed the bright, it is proper that 
we should look on the dark side of this so generally 
desired period, and revolve in our minds the consid- 
erations which should reconcile us to an earlier exit 
from this world, should such be the allotment of 
Providence. This is the more interesting to us, 
because we have incomparably greater reason to 
38 



f 29& TO THE AGED. 

fear the latter, than we have to hope for the former. 
In the lottery of life, but here and there one draws 
the prize of fourscore, or even of three score years 
and ten. To each one in middle age as well as 
in youth, an earlier death is far the most probable. 
If we be wise, it will be our endeavour to prepare 
ourselves to meet with calmness and resignation 
what we have so much reason to apprehend may 
be our destiny. 

When we throw our thoughts forward to ad- 
vanced years as a stage at which we desire and hope 
to arrive, our imagination overlooks all the painful 
vicissitudes and sufferings which may lie in the 
way, and paints the road as smooth and alluring, 
through a pleasant and well cultivated country, 
diversified with gentle hills and fruitful vales, re- 
freshing streams and cooling shades ; presenting 
here beautiful plantations, and there verdant groves ; 
and along the whole extent, well furnished inns, 
and all the accommodations and delights that heart 
can wish. But, how different in the experience of 
the travellers, is the actual journey ! Over what 
wild and dreary deserts and barren sands, are they 
obliged, loaded with care and anxiety, to drag their 
weary steps ; at one time, enveloped in gloom ; at 
another, opening their eyes on objects of dread ; 
while winding their way through perplexed and in- 
tricate mazes, with craggy cliffs, hideous precipices, 
and dangerous pitfalls on every side. And if a 



TO THE AGED. 299 

few of the weatherbeaten pilgrims reach at last 
the desired stage — alas ! what is it ? Life stripped 
of all its pleasures, cold, cheerless, and sinking in 
rapid and irreparable decay — a deserted cottage, 
tottering under the stormy blasts of winter ! " Can 
I," said old Barzillai, " any longer discern between 
good and evil ? Can thy servant taste what I eat 
or what I drink ? Can I hear any more the voice 
of singing-men and singing-women ? Wherefore 
should I be yet a burden ?" Such is the condition, 
and such the end of old age ! Thus it proved to 
Barzillai, who, so far as we are able to judge, had 
reached it by a course more prosperous and fortunate 
than that of almost any other mortal. 

For the sake of what objects then, my brethren, 
do we wish for length of days ? Is it that we may 
become more sure of our title to heaven, and better 
prepared for that holy place ? This is indeed a 
just and most reasonable concern — a matter infinite- 
ly interesting. They, however, who have such a 
feeling sense of it as to desire life principally for 
its sake, must of course be diligent and earnest in 
improving their present opportunities, in working 
out their salvation with fear and trembling ; and 
the shortest life thus spent, will end well and safe- 
ly. They who are thus employed will be found 
watching and ready at whatever hour their Lord 
shall come, whether at midnight, at the cockcrow- 
ing, or in the morning. But to what purpose do 



300 TO THE AGED. 

they desire to live, by whom all this is disregarded ? 
What are the aims of worldly men in wishing to 
survive to old age ? You are engaged in business 
perhaps, and hope that in the course of a life ex- 
tended to the common boundary, you may become 
distinguished for your riches. But know you not 
that these riches are uncertain, and that the hope 
and prospect of them are always precarious ? Have 
you duly considered all the chances against you — 
the misfortunes, losses, and disappointments to 
which you lie open ? How many as eager as 
yourselves in the same pursuit, have in the end 
seen the object of it eluding their grasp ? But we 
would provide for our children, you will urge. 
Are you sure that those children may not die be- 
fore you ; or if they live, that they may not be- 
come profligate, and at last bring down your gray 
hairs with sorrow to the grave ? 

It is certain that in the course of a long life 
many sorrows and afflictions must overtake us. 
They who live to be old are compelled to see and 
hear many things which they would not — the loss 
of friends and relations, their own misfortunes and 
the distresses of others, troublesome times, and 
public commotions and confusions. Was not the 
heart of Barzillai wrung with anguish at the re- 
bellion of Absalom ? He well remembered the 
day when all Israel sang the praises of the con- 
queror of Goliath. He had witnessed the general 



TO THE AGEB. 



301 



joy when this hero, with the suffrage of the nation, 
ascended the throne. He had seen the wisdom 
and rectitude of his government, and the unparal- 
leled success and prosperity of the country under 
his administration. What then must have been 
his feelings, when the greater part of the people sud- 
denly ran mad, and joined an unprincipled and ambi- 
tious son in attempting the parricide of such a fath- 
er and such a prince ? Alas ! what a world is this, 
where whole nations are capable of such phrensy 
and wickedness ! Of a similar nature are the 
scenes which continue to be exhibited on this great 
theatre. The longer we live, my brethren, the 
more we shall see and hear of them, — rebellions 
in one place, oppressions in another, the devasta- 
tion of cities and countries, the groans of the van- 
quished and the triumphs of the vanquishers,, ac- 
companied with private vices and public follies 
every where over the face of the whole earth. Is 
it worth one's while to grow old in gazing at ob- 
jects like these, in meditating upon them, inquiring, 
hearing, reading, and conversing about them — 
having, at the same time, all our passions of hope 
and fear, joy and sorrow, every moment exercised 
and agitated with their constantly varying prospect ? 
Prepare us, good Lord, by thy spirit and grace, 
prepare us for an early dismission from these scenes 
of confusion, misery, and guilt ! 



302 TO THE AGED. 

Old age is also a period in which we shall be 
in danger of losing, what Barzillai seems most 
admirably to have retained, the powers of reason 
and judgment. Whatever were the infirmities and 
decays of his body, he appears to have had the 
almost singular felicity of a mind unimpaired. This 
enabled him to conduct with a wisdom, dignity, 
and gravity, which must have commanded univer- 
sal respect. But how few at his years are thus 
happy ! How common is it for the mind to decay 
with the body, and sometimes become defunct, 
while the body still lives ! The greatest wits and 
heroes have sunk into imbecility, and become ideots 
under the age of fourscore. 

" From Marlborough's eyes the streams of dotage flow, 
And Swift expires, a driveller and a show." 

If these evils should be in a good measure escaped ; 
yet when men are destitute of true religion, old 
age but carries them on to higher degrees of guilt. 
The sinner being an hundred years old, dies at last 
under a curse heavy and dreadful in proportion to 
the extended duration of his guilt. 

Thus it appears that the surviving to old age 
may be desirable or otherwise, according to the 
circumstances attending it. These circumstances 
being extremely precarious and not to be foreseen, 
w T e ought to indulge no solicitude upon the subject. 
Our times and the number of our months are not 
in our own hand. He who cannot err has set for 



TO THE AGED. 



303 



us all, the bounds which we cannot pass. If among 
those to whom a long life is allotted there be some 
who, like Barzillai, at fourscore seem happy and 
respected ; there are, on the other part, many others 
who in the decline of life become extremely wretch- 
ed. 

May not this discourse teach those among us 
who are advancing towards old age, how to sup- 
port the dignity and gravity of their declining years, 
and render their hoary heads honourable in the eyes 
of the world ? This cannot be done by affecting 
to forget or endeavouring to conceal the number of 
their years, by imitating the levities of youth, or 
running into all the caprices of worldly fashion ; 
by frequenting scenes of gaiety, by mingling with 
the crowd on public occasions, or by attempting 
show and parade. 

My respected friends, you ought, like the aged 
citizen of Rogelim, to be sensible how unsuitable 
and incongruous these things are to your venerable 
standing in life. Keeping your minds unincumber- 
ed, and disentangled from the more perplexing 
cares of the world, with Barzillai, you should seek 
and love retirement ; while like him, you continue 
your endeavours to be useful, and, in proportion to 
your abilities, abound in works of beneficence both 
to the bodies and souls of those around you. As 
your time and opportunities shorten, your diligence 
in all the offices of piety to God, and of charity to 



304 TO THE AGED. 

men, should increase. Your age and experience 
authorize you to administer reproofs to the wicked, 
consolations to the afflicted, and good advice and 
instruction to the young and ignorant. On your 
influence, counsel, and example, the cause of religion, 
virtue, and good order, and the success among us 
of these greatest blessings to society, in no small 
degree depend. In no part of your lives were your 
exertions with respect to these objects, more likely 
to prove efficacious than at present. Do not imag- 
ine that you are become useless or unprofitable, 
while it is in your power to check or restrain, in 
any degree, vice and folly. 

A total cessation from worldly business while 
you are able to transact it, is not recommended. 
It is wiser and better to continue your habits of 
industry in your accustomed vocations, so long as 
you are able to prosecute them ; though you may, 
and ought, perhaps, to relax your efforts, and con- 
tract the circle of your affairs in proportion as you 
may perceive the decline of your abilities ; gradual- 
ly retiring from the noise and bustle of the world 
to domestic scenes and serious thoughts. As the 
decays of nature advance upon you, learn to bear 
them with patience and resignation. Being at 
length in a great measure disabled from worldly 
care and business, let a spirit of devotion and 
heavenlymindedness have the possession of your 
hearts. " Let your affections dwell among divine 



TO THE AGED. 305 

and immortal objects. In silent and thoughtful 
meditation, walk as on the shore of that vast 
ocean, upon which you are so soon to embark. 
Summon up all the considerations, which should 
reconcile you to your departure from life, and which 
may prepare you for going through its last scene, 
with firmness and decency." When that crisis 
shall arrive, when, after having reached the utmost 
verge of life, you shall feel yourselves sinking un- 
der disease added to the infirmities of age ; still 
remember in whom you have believed, and endeav- 
our to strengthen your confidence in him. While 
your flesh and heart are failing you, still think of 
him who is the strength of your heart and the por- 
tion of your soul, and say with the Psalmist, 
" Though I walk through the valley, and the shad- 
ow of death, I will fear no evil ; for thou art with 
me ; thy rod and thy staff, they shall comfort me." 



39 



SERMON XVII. 



CHARACTER OF JOB. 



JAMES v. 11. 

Ye have heard of the patience of Job ; and have 
seen the end of the Lord. 

It has been the opinion of some learned men, 
that no such person as Job ever existed, and that 
the book containing his history was a parabolic 
fiction, invented indeed for a pious purpose, to 
subserve the cause of religion and virtue. Bishop 
Warburton considered it as a dramatic allegory, 
composed by Ezra for the consolation of the Jews 
returning from Babylon ; wherein, under the char- 
acter of Job and his friends, are figured those Jews 
and their three great enemies, Sanballat, Tobiah, 
and Geshem. But it is certain that the history of 
Job was well known, and his character celebrated 
among the Jews, before the destruction of Jerusa- 
lem by the Chaldeans. Honourable mention is 
made of him in the prophecy of Ezekiel (xiv. 14), 
and he i§ there represented as a person, like Noah 



CHARACTER OF JOB. 307 

and Daniel, of eminent and distinguished piety. 
He could not therefore have been a feigned, but a 
real character, as truly as Noah and Daniel. We 
are also led to the same conclusion by the Apos- 
tle's reference to him in the text. Against the 
express testimony of two inspired writers, it seems 
hardly allowable to doubt of the reality of his per- 
son, or of the truth of his history. 

It may be more difficult precisely to ascertain 
the age in which he lived. As there is not through 
his whole book any reference to a written law of 
God, it seems probable that he lived in the patri- 
archal age, prior to Moses and the emancipation of 
the Israelites from the Egyptian bondage. With 
this hypothesis, the length of his life corresponds. 
As he survived his sufferings a hundred and forty 
years, his whole life could not have been less than 
two hundred — an age which well agrees with that 
of the patriarchs between Abraham and Moses. 
The land of Uz, in which he is said to have lived, 
is mentioned in the Lamentations of Jeremiah, as 
pertaining to the country possessed by the descend- 
ants of Esau, and is called Edom. One at least 
of Job's friends, Eliphaz, is supposed to have been 
of that family ; but most commentators choose to 
consider Job himself as a descendant from Nahor, 
the brother of Abraham. 

By whom his history was written, whether by 
himself, by Elihu, or any other of his friends, we 



308 CHARACTER OF JOB. 

cannot form a conjecture. It carries with it evi- 
dent marks of the remotest antiquity, and is per- 
haps the oldest book now extant in the world. 
That it was written near the times in which the 
events happened, cannot be doubted. Were we 
to suppose, as some have, an interval of ages while 
these things were handed down by oral tradition, their 
credibility would have been so diminished, that the 
Jews would not have received the book as canonical. 
It is inconceivable that Moses or any other Hebrew 
could have written it without referring to some or 
other of their national peculiarities, or at least 
without tracing the relation of Job to some of their 
ancestors. But as nothing of this sort occurs, 
and the book stands unconnected with, and inde- 
pendent of the whole Jewish history and system, 
it probably preceded any records of theirs which 
have reached modern times. The account of Job's 
possessions, the points of history, the rites of reli- 
gion, and the forms of idolatry referred to in it, 
are all such as agree to the times which preceded 
the Mosaic institution. 

The book assumes so much of a poetic form, 
that critics have called it a poem of the dramatic 
kind. The general argument seems to be, "to 
teach men, that considering the corruption, igno- 
rance, and weakness of the human nature, on the 
one hand, and the infinite wisdom and immense 
greatness of God on the other, they should renounce 



CHARACTER OF JOB. 309 

their own strength, their own righteousness, put 
their full trust in God, and submit themselves to 
him in all things with the deepest humility and 
reverence." This instruction is forcibly inculcated 
through the interlocutory parts of the whole book. 
The historical part exhibits " an high example of 
consummate and rewarded patience." " Ye have 
heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the 
end of the Lord." The trial of his patience 
would not have been comparably so great, if he 
had not previously enjoyed an uncommon degree 
of prosperity. The firmness of our minds, espe- 
cially our patience, is peculiarly tried by great and 
sudden changes, from a prosperous to an adverse 
condition. Before his misfortunes, Job had no 
rival in worldly greatness among all the people of 
the East. In wealth, power, and honour, he was 
a prince eminent and distinguished above his co- 
temporaries. And what was yet more remarkable, 
his piety and goodness equalled his temporal 
grandeur. He was as much above others in excel- 
lence of character, as in worldly circumstances. 
Amidst the corruptions, idolatries, and superstitions 
already spreading among mankind, he preserved 
the purity of that religion which had been handed 
down from the preceding patriarchs. Entertaining 
just and worthy conceptions of the one true and 
living God, he conscientiously worshipped him in 
spirit and in truth. " He feared God, and eschew- 
ed evil." 



310 CHARACTER OF JOB. 

Blessed with a numerous offspring, it was also 
his care to train them up in the nurture and admo- 
nition of the Lord. Nor did his anxiety for their 
spiritual welfare cease after they had arrived at 
mature age, and were settled in distinct families 
of their own. As they abounded in wealth through 
his indulgence, he feared that by luxury and sen- 
suality their hearts might be alienated from God. 
It was therefore his stated custom, after every repe- 
tition of their family feasts, to send them a message 
on religion ; requiring their sanctification by those 
ritual ceremonies then in use, and the preparing of 
themselves to join with him in the solemnities of 
God's worship ; in which he offered " burnt-offer- 
ings according to the number of them all. Thus 
did Job continually." We can hardly imagine a 
stronger proof of the habitual tenderness of his 
conscience, and of his dread of sin, either in him- 
self or in any of his family. With what scrupu- 
lous circumspection did he guard against whatever 
he apprehended might be offensive in the sight of 
Heaven ! 

With this his eminent and exemplary piety, he 
joined all the social virtues which could adorn his 
station and circumstances. Opulent and powerful 
as he was, he knew how " to use this world with- 
out abusing it." In his hands, power and wealth 
were used for the protection of the oppressed, and 
as the resource of the poor. As a magistrate, he 



CHARACTER OF JOB. 311 

was a terror to evildoers, and the scourge of injus- 
tice ; and being rich, he abounded in good works, 
and in all the expressions of a diffusive benevolence. 
In defending himself against the suspicions of his 
friends, he was able to say, " I delivered the poor 
that cried, the fatherless, and him that had none to 
help him. The blessing of him that was ready to 
perish, came upon me ; and I caused the widow's 
heart to sing for joy. I put on righteousness, and 
it clothed me ; my judgment was a robe and a 
diadem. I was eyes to the blind, and feet to the 
lame. I was a father to the poor, and the cause 
which I knew not, I searched out. I brake the 
jaws of the wicked, and plucked the spoil out of 
his teeth. The stranger did not lodge in the 
street. I opened my doors to the traveller. My 
root was spread out by the waters, and the dew 
lay all night upon my branch." By the uni- 
form practice of these virtues, he had obtained 
an established character for eminent worth and 
goodness. So highly was he esteemed and hon- 
oured by the good, and so revered and dreaded by 
the wicked, that we can hardly conceive of a hu- 
man character more dignified and respectable. 
" When I went out to the gate through the city, 
the young men saw me, and hid themselves ; the 
aged arose and stood up ; the princes refrained 
talking ; the nobles held their peace. When the 
ear heard me, then it blessed me ; and when the eye 



312 CHARACTER OF JOB. 

saw me, it gave witness to me. Unto me men 
gave ear, and waited, and kept silence at my coun- 
sel. After my words they spake not again ; and 
my speech dropped upon them. They waited for 
me as for the rain. I chose out their way, and 
sat chief, dwelling as a king in the army." All 
these tokens of respect, so natural and so manly, 
are suitable to that simplicity of manners which 
prevailed in the patriarchal age. 

If virtue and goodness, in such a world as this, 
could shield a man from calamity, Job had surely 
some reason for the hope which he entertained 
concerning himself, when he said, " I shall multiply 
my days as the sand, and in the end die peaceably 
in my nest." He did not, however, rest secure 
and at ease in this hope. He had too just a sense 
of the vanity of the world, and of the vicissitudes 
of all earthly things, to promise himself an uninter- 
rupted course of prosperity. In the midst of all 
his enjoyments, his boding mind seems occasionally 
to have presaged the dreadful reverse to which he 
was destined. After this reverse had actually 
befallen him, he said, " The thing which I greatly 
feared, is come upon me, and that which I was 
afraid of, is come unto me. I was not in safety, 
neither had I rest, neither was I quiet ; yet trouble 
came." This rendered the dispensation the more 
mysterious and perplexing to his thoughts. 



CHARACTER OF JOB. 313 

An approving conscience in the review of his 
past life, would not suffer him to consider his 
afflictions as sent to correct that secure and arro- 
gant temper, which is too often occasioned by 
worldly success and prosperity. As he knew that 
he had never indulged to that presumption which 
provokes correction, he was the more at a loss to 
account for his being visited in a manner so remark- 
ably severe, and different from what had befallen 
any other mortal. He had indeed been highly 
blessed and prospered ; yet he had received these 
blessings with thankfulness, enjoyed them with 
temperance, and used them in a manner which 
he judged to be most honorary to the supreme 
Donor. Why then should he have been, in so 
sudden and awful a manner, stripped of the whole, 
and overwhelmed with complicated misery ? The 
unsearchable design of the dispensation, the mys- 
terious darkness in which it was involved, was one 
of its most trying and aggravating circumstances. 
After exerting his own reason in vain to account 
for it, he desired to be enlightened from above ; 
and was constrained earnestly to pray, " Shew me 
wherefore thou contendest with me." 

The sacred historian represents his sufferings 
as proceeding, through the divine permission, from 
the immediate agency and malice of Satan. The 
manner of this evil spirit's obtaining license from 
God to afflict his servant Job, is set forth in an 
40 



314 CHARACTER OF JOB. 

allegory not unlike to the vision of Micaiah, con- 
cerning the fate of Ahab. " Now there was a 
day when the sons of God came to present them- 
selves before the Lord, and Satan came also among 
them." By the "sons of God," it is most 
natural to understand the angels. The existence 
of such beings, both good and bad, seems to have 
been among the first things made known to man- 
kind by revelation. They are represented as 
employed by God in the administration of his prov- 
idence, — evil angels acting by his permission, and 
good ones by his authority and commission. And 
as kings are accustomed to decide their most 
important affairs in a solemn council or assembly ; 
so God, after the manner of men, and in accom- 
modation to our way of conceiving, is represented 
as passing the decrees of his providence, in an 
assembly of his angelic ministers. As the image- 
ry of this statement refers to the transactions of 
the invisible world, giving us but a transient glimpse 
of the unsearchable counsels of the Almighty, it is 
not my present purpose to attempt an explanation 
of its particulars. Perhaps it is not of much im- 
portance to inquire, whether it is to be understood 
in a sense literal or figurative* 

The great enemy of man being let loose upon 
the possessions and family of Job, chose the oppor- 
tunity to afflict him when the shock of his calam- 
ities might prove the most dreadful. On a day of 



CHARACTER OF JOB. 315 

festivity, when his children were assembled at the 
house of their eldest brother, a messenger arrives 
with the evil tidings of the mischief done him by the 
Sabeans, in the loss of all his cattle and servants in 
the field. This story is scarcely finished, when 
another brings the unheard of account of his seven 
thousand sheep, together with their keepers, being 
consumed by lightning. A third hurries in with 
the news of the Chaldean invasion, and of the 
spoil which they had made of his camels and ser- 
vants. And while he was still making his report, 
to complete the catalogue of Job's misfortunes, a 
fourth brings him the heart-rending tidings of the 
instantaneous death of all his children, by a hurri- 
cane from the wilderness. All these calamities 
happening together, in a manner so singular and 
wholly beside the common course of providence, 
were well worthy of the prince of the power of 
the air, and suitable to that malevolence of dispo- 
sition attributed to him in Scripture. 

Thus commenced the first scene of Job's trial. 
And how did he acquit himself ? Let us imagine 
ourselves in his situation, and ask our own hearts how 
we could sustain such a weight of misery, so instan- 
taneously heaped upon us ? Endued with the 
sensibilities of human nature, Job felt all the pangs 
of his afflictions, and used those expressions of 
grief which were customary in that age. " He 
rent his mantle, shaved his head, and fell down 



316 CHARACTER OF JOB. 

upon the ground." But in all this, like a wise and 
good man, he prostrated himself before God, under 
a humble sense of his own unworthiness, and with 
adoring apprehensions of the divine dominion 
and sovereignty. " He fell upon the ground and 
worshipped," saying, " Naked came I out of my 
mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The 
Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed 
be the name of the Lord. In all this," the history 
adds, " Job sinned not, nor charged God foolishly." 
Happy man, who could still think worthily of God, 
and retain his reverence for him and confidence in 
him, under the sharpest scourges of his rod ! 

But another scene of misery soon opens upon 
him, and opens as the first did, with the same 
machinery of angels, good and bad, appearing 
before God as the ministers of his providential ad- 
ministration of the government of the world. 
Hitherto Satan had not been permitted to touch 
Job's person. At the next assembly of the sons of 
God, he obtained leave to touch his bone and his flesh, 
and torment him to the utmost, short of his life. 
Immediately Job was covered from head to foot 
with grievous sores and boils, rendering his whole 
person loathsome, and as full of pain and anguish 
as infernal malice could inflict. Reduced to this 
deplorable condition, he became an object of dis- 
gust to all about him. That complaint, " My 
breath is strange to my wife," seems to imply that 



CHARACTER OF JOB. 317 

that even she proved unkind, and endeavoured to 
avoid him. Nay, if our translation be correct, she 
seems to have been gained over by Satan to insult 
and reproach him with his preposterous piety. 
" Dost thou still retain thine integrity ? curse God 
and die." While Job was making his submission 
to God, and pouring out his supplications before 
him ; his wife, agitated with feelings very different, 
wild and distracted by the dreadful change of their 
condition, in a transport of passion, which was 
but the more increased by witnessing his patience 
and resignation, broke out upon him — " Dost 
thou still continue thy devotions, blessing God 
while he is destroying thee — calling upon him 
and adoring his goodness, after he has ruined thy 
family and estate, and, notwithstanding all thy sub- 
missions, is now slaughtering thy body ?" In no 
instance, perhaps, does the patience of this good 
man appear to more advantage than in the mild, 
yet pious answer, which he returned on this occa- 
sion : "Thou speakest as one of the foolish wo- 
men speaketh — not like thyself. What ! shall we 
receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not 
receive evil ? Since both proceed from the same 
wise and righteous Disposer, should we not submit 
to his will ?" Hitherto Job preserved the utmost 
propriety of behaviour ; not a word had escaped 
him, savouring of impatience or of a murmuring 
disposition. The history is express, that as yet he 
had not " sinned with his lips." 



318 



CHARACTER OF JOB. 



But the steadiness and composure of his mind 
were to receive further, if not severer trials still, 
from the behaviour of his friends, and from the 
construction put by the world upon his extraordi- 
nary sufferings. To the feelings of a good man, 
the inflictions of providence are not comparably so 
irritating, as the evil surmises and slanderous impu- 
tations of his friends and neighbours around him, — 
especially when they suspect him of the blackest 
crimes, and consider his sufferings as so many 
proofs of his guilt. 

The unheard of calamities of Job had rendered 
him a spectacle of sorrow and wretchedness to all 
beholders. The whole country around, so far as 
the fame of his grandeur and goodness had extend- 
ed, was now full of his story and of astonishment. 
Religious people, in that age, knew not how to 
construe such signal calamities, but as the judg- 
ments of the Almighty upon an hypocrite, who, 
under the cloak of religion, had concealed a most 
odious character. In all probability, the openly 
profane and irreligious triumphed in his sufferings, 
"asa justification of their own bad principles and 
practices, and as a demonstration of the insignifi- 
cancy of the strictest regards to God and his wor- 
ship." His near kindred and friends would no 
longer acknowledge any relation to so abandoned 
a creature, but turned from him with disgust and 
horror. The surviving members of his family 



CHARACTER OF JOB. 3i9 

joined with his wife in treating him with unkind- 
ness and neglect. The basest of men broke in 
upon him like so many fiends, sporting themselves 
with his sufferings, heaping insults and indignities 
upon him, and not sparing even to " spit in his 
face." 

In how moving and pathetic a manner does he 
complain of these things ! " They that dwell in 
mine house, and my maids, count me for a stranger : 
I am an alien in their sight. I called my servant, 
and he gave me no answer. Young chil- 
dren despised me ; I arose and they spake against 
me. All my inward friends abhorred me ; and 
they whom I loved, are turned against me. 
God hath delivered me to the ungodly, and turned 
me over into the hands of the wicked. They have 
gaped upon me with their mouth, they have smit- 
ten me upon the cheek reproachfully. Children of 
base men have me in derision. I am their song, 
yea, I am their by-word. They came upon me 
as the wide breaking in of waters — they rolled 
themselves upon me. They abhor me and spare 
not to spit in my face." Under such a load of 
grief, such a complication of misery, Job must 
have been above the feelings of human nature, if 
he had not occasionally betrayed some infirmity. 

Among his friends dwelling in the adjacent 
country, Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar, were men 
of similar rank, as well as piety and good sense, 



320 



CHARACTER OF JOB. 



with himself. He had been long happy in a social 
intercourse and intimacy with these respectable 
neighbours. On hearing the report of what had 
befallen him, and of the dishonour thereby occa- 
sioned to religion, they agreed to make him a visit. 
Though they had the same ill opinion of him, and 
believed with the rest of the world that his extra- 
ordinary sufferings were divine inflictions for some 
great and heinous wickedness; yet they hoped 
that by impressing his conscience with a sense of 
guilt, they might be able to bring him to repent- 
ance,, and a consequent interest in the divine favour, 
the only source of all true consolation. But on their 
arriving at his melancholy habitation, they beheld 
their late flourishing, honourable, and highly es- 
teemed friend, an object so forsaken and forlorn, 
sitting in ashes, and reduced to such loathsome 
wretchedness, that they were themselves over- 
whelmed with astonishment and grief. " They 
lifted up their voice and wept, rent each one his 
mantle, and sprinkled dust upon their heads." 
The history adds, " So they sat down with him 
upon the ground seven days and seven nights, and 
none spake a word unto him ; for they saw that 
his grief was very great." 

" Though this description have the same poet- 
ical aspect with some other circumstances in the 
story, yet it might be literally true and agreeable 
to the manners of those ancient times. A long 



CHARACTER OF JOB. 321 

silence is a very natural effect of an extraordinary 
grief, which overwhelms the mind, and creates a 
sort of stupor and astonishment. ' Sitting on the 
ground,' is an oriental phrase, to express their 
passing the time in the deepest mourning." As 
the friends of Job saw his grief to be too great to 
admit of those severe things which they had med- 
itated for him, and as their bad opinion of him 
would not suffer them to address consolatory dis- 
courses to him, — they chose at first to remain 
silent. But the sight of his old acquaintance and 
their unfavourable manner of condolence, seem to 
have swollen the grief of his mind to such an 
height, that at length it burst forth in that torrent 
of bitter reflections, which are recorded in the third 
chapter. 

When the long silence had been thus broken 
by himself, his friends, embraced the opportunity 
of laying open to him their sense of his case. 
They began indeed with an air of tenderness, but 
soon intimated their apprehensions that he had 
been very defective in the character to which he 
had pretended; and, in short, that his great sufferings 
were evident indications of great sins, and of the wrath 
of God against him as an hypocritical and wicked 
person. This charge Job firmly and resolutely re- 
pels, answering all their arguments and maintaining 
his integrity and uprightness, till they are at length 
silenced, though ^perhaps not convinced. They 
41 * 



CHARACTER OF JOB. 

all speak like men of sense and piety, but, as they 
waxed warm in the debate, their expressions on 
both sides are perhaps too strong and exaggerat- 
ed. As Job continued speaking long after his 
friends had ceased to answer, Elihu, a young 
man of an excellent understanding, a by-stander 
and witness of the whole controversy, at length 
comes forward as moderator, and freely censures 
both parties, judiciously pointing out what had 
been faulty in the arguments, both of Job and of 
his friends. 

Finally, God himself answers Job out of the 
whirlwind. Nothing can be conceived more awful 
than this appearance of Jehovah ; nothing more 
sublime than the manner in which the speech is 
introduced. Thunders, lightnings, and a whirl- 
wind announce his approach ! All creation trem- 
bles at his presence ! At the blaze of his all- 
piercing eye, every disguise falls off. The state- 
liness of human pride, the vanity of human 
knowledge, sink into their original nothing. The 
man of understanding, the man of age and experi- 
ence ; he who desired nothing more than to argue 
the point with God ; he that would maintain his 
ways to his face, — confounded at his presence, 
and ready to drop into dissolution, with the deepest 
humiliation and reverence, exclaims, " I abhor my- 
self, and repent in dust and ashes." With these 
words the poem ends. The remainder of the book 
is mere history. 



CHARACTER OF JOB. 323 

After the speech of the Almighty had brought 
Job to this humble and penitent temper, it pleased 
God to restore him to health and prosperity. His 
three friends are directed to seek his intercession, 
as not having spoken so well of God as the person 
whom they had accused. All his former posses- 
sions were doubled, and his life prolonged to 
probably double the number of years that he had 
lived before his affliction. This temporal good 
was granted as an earnest of a still greater and 
higher felicity in store for him hereafter. Such 
was " the end of the Lord," thus merciful and 
gracious in his dealings with this his faithful servant. 
His afflictions were permitted that he might exhibit 
to all the succeeding generations of mankind a 
noble and shining example of suffering virtue. 

He is called " a perfect and upright man;" but 
by these expressions we are only to understand that 
he was a man of sincere and eminent goodness. A 
character strictly perfect, has never appeared but 
once on the real stage of the world. In Job, as 
well as in other good men, there was a mixture 
of human infirmity. His bitter complaints, exe- 
crations on his birthday, weariness of life, longing 
for death, eagerness to be brought upon his trial, 
and his expostulations with his Judge, were aH 
below the serene dignity and perfect submission 
with which the man Christ Jesus endured far 
greater sufferings. They were shades and Mem- 



324 CHARACTER OF JOB. 

ishes in this otherwise excellent character, and 
argued some degree of impatience even in this 
heroic pattern of patience. It should be remember- 
ed, however, that they were wrung from him by the 
astonishing nature and uncommon severity of his 
sufferings, accompanied with the rash censures and 
torturing suspicions of his friends. The ready 
forgiveness and favour with which his humble 
acknowledgment was accepted, and the ample 
reward which compensated his sufferings, may 
teach us the tender compassions of God towards 
the infirmities and weaknesses of our nature, and 
how ready he is to overlook our slighter failings, 
where there is a fixed principle of piety, and an 
heart steadily bent upon the practice of virtue 
amidst all trials and temptations. 

In this world we are all upon trial. We are 
placed here in the midst of temptations, difficulties, 
and troubles, that by repeated acts of wisdom and 
virtue, in opposition to all the allurements to folly 
and vice, we might acquire those habits of self- 
command, submission to God, and acquiescence in 
his will, which may fit us for a state of higher 
felicity in a better world. The example of Job 
and of other good men whose lives are recorded 
in Scripture, is set before us to encourage and 
animate our endeavours to tread in their steps. 
By what happened to them, we are warned of the 
temptations and dangers to which we ourselves are 



CHARACTER OF JOB- 525 

exposed ; and in their victory and triumph over 
them, we see to what noble attainments our nature 
is capable of rising, when duly cultivated and im- 
proved. God grant that we may all become fol- 
lowers of those " who through faith and patience 
are already inheriting the promises !" 



SERMON XVIIL 



PREACHING OF PAUL, 



ACTS xxiv. 25. 

As he reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and 
judgment to come, Felix trembled. 

As the ministers of Christ, in fulfilling the duties 
of their holy profession, must wish to regard St. 
Paul as a model, copying after his manner of 
preaching, his judgment in accommodating his 
discourses to the circumstances and characters of 
his hearers, and his earnestness and zeal in speak- 
ing to their hearts and consciences ; the words 
now read may lead us to contemplate him in each 
of these respects. Of his method of preaching we 
are informed by the assertion, that he reasoned. 

The great pre-eminence of human beings above 
the other species of creatures belonging to this 
lower creation, results from their powers of reason. 
By this faculty they are enabled to reflect upon 

* This discourse was delivered at an ordination. The portion of it 
more immediately adapted to the occasion, being alone omitted. 



PREACHING OF PAUL. 327 

their own perceptions — on the treasures of knowl- 
edge already accumulated in their minds ; to dis- 
cern the distinction between opposite moral qual- 
ities, good and evil, truth and falsehood ; to com- 
pare ideas or different propositions, to mark their 
agreement or repugnance, and to educe one truth 
from another, in a continued series, by bringing into 
view their reciprocal relations. Reasoning consists 
in such a use of our powers of thought and intellect. 
In this way human knowledge in general is both 
acquired and communicated, and the understandings 
of men improved and cultivated. 

As all other knowledge, so that of religion, of 
its principles and duties, must be obtained by thus 
reasoning upon them. The religion of Christ being 
a reasonable service, it invites us to examine both 
its doctrines, and its credentials, and requires to be 
received upon no other ground, but that of a ration- 
al conviction of its truth. As it is contained in 
certain writings which claim the authority of divine 
inspiration, it is the office of reason to examine 
and judge of the evidence upon which this claim is 
founded. Besides the christian scriptures, there are 
in the world divers other writings most opposite to 
them in their doctrines and precepts, which yet pre- 
tend to the same authority. Reason in its most 
improved state and most vigorous exercise, is neces- 
sary to enable us to judge correctly of the respect- 
ive claims of those various systems, each of 



328 ^REACHING OF PAUL. 

which offers itself to us as a revelation from 
God. Through the weakness of their reason, or 
through their neglect to exercise it upon the things 
of religion, the great mass of mankind from age to 
age have become the dupes of numberless impos- 
tors ; have fallen under strong and dangerous delu- 
sions, or given themselves up to the most absurd 
superstitions. To think and examine, each one 
for himself, being an exertion too great for their in- 
dolence, they have preferred the taking of their 
religion on trust, by an implicit faith. But they 
are, in every instance, false religions, the inventions 
of men, the dreams of enthusiasts, or the fabrica- 
tions of statesmen for political purposes, which 
require to be so received. It was the design of 
the great Author of our being in conferring upon 
us the gift of reason, that we should improve it in 
searching after the knowledge of him, of our duty 
to him, and to one another. To assist our reason 
in this search, revelation has been added. But 
this revelation was at first accompanied and is still 
attended with such proofs of its being derived from 
God, that, when impartially examined, unbiassed 
reason cannot fail of admitting its truth. With 
these proofs, each believer in revealed religion ought 
to be so acquainted, as to be able, whenever challeng- 
ed, to render a reason for his faith, or for the hope 
which is in him. 



PREACHING OF PAUL. 329 

Nor is it only in judging of the evidence upon 
which we receive the Christian Scriptures as the 
word of God, that the exercise of reason is necessary. 
In the right understanding of these Scriptures, in 
searching out their true meaning, the doctrines 
which they teach and the duties which they enjoin, 
the closest study, the most diligent and earnest 
labours of reason are requisite. As the original 
Scriptures are contained in languages long since 
dead and out of use, whose style was that of the 
oriental nations, highly figurative, comprising many 
images scarcely intelligible in the western world, 
especially in modern times, and abounding with 
allusions to manners, circumstances, and events 
which took place many ages ago, it is hardly possible 
rightly and accurately to understand them without 
the closest attention and the greatest care in com- 
paring scripture with scripture, aided by deep research 
into antiquity and a competent knowledge of ancient 
history. If it cannot be expected of private chris- 
tians that they should apply to the study of them, 
aided by all these advantages, yet it would be in- 
excusable in any professed expounder of them, not 
to avail himself of every mean within his reach for 
ascertaining their true sense ; nor would it be hon- 
orary to any christian society to set up such a 
character for their public teacher. 

We see the christian world divided into num- 
berless sects and parties, holding tenets opposite to 
42 



330 PREACHING OF PAUL. 

each other, and practising rites and ceremonies, in 
some instances, resembling those of ancient pagan- 
ism. Among those who are called Christians, dam- 
nable heresies have crept in, doctrines of demons 
have been professed, and superstitions practised, 
which are a reproach to reason, and a disgrace to 
humanity. From the Scriptures, however, all these 
sects and parties profess to derive their respective 
creeds and modes of worship. Could there have 
been these divisions among Christians, had the 
Scriptures been rightly understood, or had reason 
been properly employed in the study of them ? 
Are they not the result of inattention, of a criminal 
want of heed to that light which is come into the 
world ? While the greatest proportion of the men 
called learned have been too indolent, or too much 
engaged in other studies, to exercise their reason 
about their spiritual concerns ; the holy Scriptures, 
the depositories of all religious truth, have been 
left, not unfrequently, to the management of igno- 
rance, prejudice, passion, and interest. By these 
wild expounders they have been perverted to all 
manner of purposes. No doctrine is so absurd, and 
scarcely any practice so abominable as not to have 
been ostensibly supported by the wresting of some 
texts or passages in the Bible. Not by men of 
corrupt minds only, has this sacred book been thus 
abused. Multitudes have undesignedly mistaken 
its meaning. The best are liable to err. Of all 



PREACHING OF PAUL. 331 

its translators and expositors from the apostolic age 
down to the present, there have been none whose 
weaknesses or prejudices have not betrayed them 
into some mistakes. 

Should not these observations convince us how 
important it is that we endeavour to see with our 
own eyes, to search and study the sacred writings 
each one for himself ? The unlearned indeed must, 
of course, depend on the fidelity of translations ; 
but would it not be disgraceful to the professed 
teacher thus to take upon trust what he delivers to 
others for inspired truth ? Should his deficiency 
be unknown and unsuspected abroad, yet could he 
feel satisfied with himself as a " workman who 
needeth not to be ashamed ?V The gift of tongues 
was among the qualifications with which the first 
teachers of Christianity were furnished. What they 
obtained by miracle, their successors are expected 
to obtain by diligence and application. " Though 
my knowledge of the Hebrew tongue be small; " 
says the celebrated Luther, " I would not exchange 
it for the treasures of the world." As a reason, 
he adds, " They who read only versions of the He- 
brew scriptures, see with the eyes of others ; they 
stand with the people in the courts, and view the 
sacred rites at a distance ; but whoever is acquaint- 
ed with the sacred text itself, is admitted with the 
priests into the sanctuary, and is himself a witness 
and a judge of all that is transacted in the recesses 
of the temple." 



332 PREACHING OF PAUL. 

If the christian teacher ought not implicitly to 
confide in translations, should he not be stiil more 
cautious with respect to commentaries and exposi- 
tions ? Certain it is that all these are more or less 
tinged with the peculiarities of their respective 
authors.* Prepossessions, in some measure, take 
hold on every mind. No uninspired men, however 
pious, or however learned, are to be regarded as 
infallible. " By the law and the testimony," our 
own reason must try their interpretations, admit- 
ting or rejecting them through that criterion. In 
this way only should they be used ; and in this 
way indeed the more rational and judicious of them 
may assist our inquiries. 

After reason has been thus exercised in accu- 
mulating the treasures of religious knowledge, it 
may be expected to preside and direct in the dis- 
pensing of those treasures. The habit of correct 
reasoning having been formed by the learner, on 
his becoming a teacher, it will naturally lead him 
so to methodize and arrange his instructions, that 
one important truth after another in a continued, 

* " What are these huge volumes which fill up one side of the room," 
said a visitor to the keeper of a public library. " These are the interpret- 
ers of the scriptures," was the answer, " There is a prodigious number of 
them ; the Scriptures must have been very dark formerly and be very clear 
at present. Are there any remaining doubts, any points still contested ?'' 
" Are there ? do you ask ? almost as many as there are lines." " You as- 
tonish me ! what then have all these authors been doing?" "Searching 
the Scriptures to find, not what ought to be believed, but what themselves 
already believed." If this be high colouring, it is not wholly unfounded. 



PREACHING OF PAUL. 333 

connected series will pertinently be brought forward, 
unfolded and set in a clear light before the under- 
standing of the hearer, strengthening his judgment 
and assisting his memory, while it convinces his 
conscience and operates on his will and affections. 
Such was the manner of St. Paul's preaching. 
When it is said of him that he reasoned, we 
think of the good sense displayed in the order and 
connexion of his sentiments, as well as in their 
importance and in the proofs advanced for their 
support. His discourses were not loose harangues, 
made up of rambling, disjointed observations. They 
consisted not of bold assertions abruptly thrown 
out, unsustained by any show of argument, though 
incessantly repeated in tones of vociferation, attend- 
ed with wild airs and gestures. These methods of 
dispensing pretended instruction are indeed but too 
common. They are in constant use with those 
impostors and enthusiasts who impiously affect to 
be thought apostles, as having partaken in gifts 
supernatural. Are they not such characters, of 
whom we read, that " they creep into houses, 
leading away silly women laden with iniquities ?" 
It may seem strange that, in this enlightened age, 
such pretended teachers should attract notice. It 
is astonishing that they should draw crowds after 
them. Good sense, as well as true religion, cannot 
but disclaim them. Revelation is indeed the light 
given to direct us, but reason is the intellectual eye 



334 



PREACHING OF PAUL. 



by which alone this light can be either seen or used 
to any valuable purpose. Is it not wonderful that, 
after they have received the gift of reason and by 
every day's experience reaped its advantages in all 
their common affairs, men should lay it aside in 
their most difficult and weighty concerns, where 
their eternal interests are involved? Of what 
avail can any religious faith or practice be, any 
farther than it is reasonable ? In what can its 
piety or morality consist ? If we would be ration- 
ally religious, must we not desire and seek such 
instruction only as is adapted to improve and edify 
rational beings ? 

It was by such instruction that the first propa- 
gators of Christianity succeeded in spreading the 
knowledge of this religion in the world. Their 
preaching was always rational. That of St. Paul 
seems to have been generally in the argumentative 
strain. In discoursing to the Gentiles, he began 
with reasoning on the principles of natural religion, 
in connexion with which he proceeded to in- 
troduce and establish some or other of the doctrines 
of revelation. When addressing the Jews, he drew 
his arguments in favour of the Gospel, from those 
scriptures which were by the Jews already receiv- 
ed and acknowledged. Thus in a synagogue at 
Thessalonica, for three successive sabbaths, " he 
reasoned with the Jews out of the Scriptures ; open- 
ing and alleging that Christ must needs have suf- 



PREACHING OF PAUL. 335 

fered, and risen again from the dead ; and that 
this Jesus whom he preached, was Christ." At 
Corinth too, we read, that he " reasoned in the 
synagogue every sabbath, and persuaded the Jews 
and Greeks." Also at Ephesus, he " entered into 
the synagogue, and reasoned with the Jews." And 
in the text, when preaching before Felix and 
Drusilla, " he reasoned." 

On this last occasion he laboured under the 
signal disadvantage of being a prisoner, speaking 
before those who had his liberty and even his life 
in their power, and whose characters could promise 
little honour to any religion. Felix, as a magistrate, 
was notorious for the abuse of his power in acts of 
injustice and oppression. His wife Drusilla was 
not less notorious for lewdness. Enslaved how- 
ever as these great personages were to avarice and 
lust, that curiosity or thirst after knowledge which 
is natural to the human mind, prompted them to 
give Paul a hearing on the subject of the christian 
faith, the new religion then spreading in the world. 
Glad of every opportunity for preaching Christ, 
after evidencing Jesus to be the Christ, the Apostle 
dwelt upon such parts of his religion as were the 
best adapted to the known character of his hear- 
ers, as tending to awaken in them a sense of 
their guilt and danger, and "thus to bring them to 
repentance, and to faith in the Saviour. Righteous- 
ness, temperance, and judgment to come, are among 



336 PREACHING OF PAUL. 

the fundamental articles of the christian faith, hav- 
ing been abundantly taught by Christ himself dur- 
ing his ministry on earth. In their full extent, 
they comprehend the substance of his religion. 
The great call of the Gospel to us is — that we con- 
sider our ways — break off our sins by repentance — 
for the future, do justly, in rendering to God the 
things which are his, to our fellow- men the things 
which are theirs — and become temperate in all 
things by self-government. To do these things 
from evangelical motives, in hope of pardon for the 
past through the mediation of Christ, and with a 
view to that recompense of reward which he has 
promised at the last day, comprises the whole duty 
of a Christian. It was therefore the "faith of 
Christ," which Paul preached, while " he reasoned 
on righteousness, temperance, and judgment to 
come." After elucidating these subjects he undoubt- 
edly enforced them by the dictates of reason, as 
well as by the precepts of revelation. 

Under the head of justice, we may suppose 
him to have enlarged upon whatever is implied in 
" doing as we would be done by ;" sanctioning 
that maxim by arguments derived from the mutual 
relation in which men stand to one another, 
and their equal relation to one common Father 
or Creator; of whose family they all are, and 
among whom he requires order, equity, truth, and 
charity. If a good human parent enjoin these things 



PREACHING OF PAUL. 337 

upon his children, we must believe them to be the 
will of our common Father in heaven, and that he 
will be displeased with all those actions which pro- 
ceed from opposite dispositions in us — with all in- 
justice, oppression, and cruelty. When these crimes 
have been committed under the forms of law, when 
a ruler has so abused his power as to render it the 
source of misery to those for whose happiness only 
it ought to be exerted, his conscience must be load- 
ed with the deepest guilt, his own heart must re- 
proach him. Felix felt its reproaches while he heard 
Paul " reasoning" on the various branches of right- 
eousness. 

Next to these virtues the Apostle brought into 
view those pertaining to self-government, as they 
are implied in " temperance." This has respect 
both to the body and the mind, and requires all 
the propensities of our nature to be under the con* 
trol of virtue. " To be temperate in all things," 
supposes due restrictions to be imposed on the pas- 
sions as well as on the appetites. In discoursing 
on this topic, we may suppose that the Apostle, 
with great clearness and energy, set forth the de- 
formity and criminality of the vices opposite to 
temperance. 

Having by these strictures laid matter of con- 
viction before the consciences of his hearers, in 
the conclusion, he drew their attention to the scenes 
of a future "judgment," when all men shall give an 
43 



338 



PREACHING OF PAUL. 



account to God of the deeds done in the body. 
Reason leads us to expect that, under a righteous 
government, every man shall sooner or latex receive 
according to his works. It being manifest that 
this does not take place in the present world, all 
our ideas of the moral perfections of God lead us 
to infer that there must be a future state. But in 
discoursing on a judgment to come, St. Paul, as 
an apostle of Christ and a publisher of his religion, 
taught its certainty and the awful circumstances of 
its proofs as set forth in the gospel revelation. 
He assured his auditors that, as God had sent 
his Son by his death to make propitiation for the 
sins of the world, so he had constituted him its future 
judge ; whereof he had given ample evidence by 
raising him from the dead and exalting him at his 
own right hand in the heavens. If in times past 
he had seemed to wink at the ignorance, the fol- 
lies, and vices of mankind ; yet now, by the Gospel, 
he called all men every where to repent and reform, 
in hope, on the one part, of his forgiveness through 
the atoning blood of his Son ; and on the other, 
through fear of that dreadful condemnation which 
would await every one who should persist in ne- 
glecting so great salvation. These things were 
depicted in such glowing colours, and with such 
force of argument, that they took hold on the con- 
science of Felix. He " trembled," 



PREACHING OF PAUL. 339 

This effect, considering upon whom it was pro- 
duced, is a clear proof of the energy, the strength 
of reason, which animated the whole tenor of St. 
Paul's well methodized discourse. A man of so 
high a rank as Felix, after such an education as 
he must have received, and after having been ac- 
customed to the eloquence of those finished orators 
who, in that age, flourished at Rome — would have 
been wholly unimpressed by mere declamation, 
however vehement, and though on a subject ever 
so interesting. But the Apostle's reasoning on 
" righteousness and temperance," had suggested 
to the conscience of Felix the manifold instances 
in which he had heinously violated those moral 
obligations ; and with these convictions rising in 
his mind, the discourse carried him before the awful 
tribunal of that Judge, with whom there is no 
respect of persons, and who will by no means clear 
the guilty. The certainty of such an arraignment 
was evinced by a train of arguments which Felix 
knew not how to confute or evade. In the mean 
while, his awakened conscience gathered strength ; 
his fears were alarmed, and rose to such an height 
that he was no longer master of himself. The 
joints of his loins were loosed, and his whole frame 
trembled. 

Such an impression seems to be all that can be 
expected from preaching. To render the impres- 
sion lasting and effectual to repentance, surpasses 



340 PREACHING OF PAUL. 

the power of human eloquence, even when it flows 
from inspired lips, from a Paul or Apollos. No 
planting, sowing, or watering, is of itself effectual. 
It is however in the use of these appointed means, 
that it pleases God to give the increase ; and the 
more ably and faithfully they are used, the more 
rationally may we hope for the divine blessing. If 
men be said to be saved " through the foolishness 
of preaching," the thing meant, certainly is not 
foolish preaching. When faith is said to come by 
hearing, we are to understand such hearing as is 
impressive. To make the impression therefore, 
should be the aim of every sermon — the object of 
the preacher in all his studies and preparations for 
the pulpit. This will be his aim, provided his 
heart be in his work, and he prosecute it from mo- 
tives such as influenced St. Paul. He was moved 
and quickened by a sense of his own eternal inter- 
est. He believed his own salvation to depend on 
the fidelity of his exertions to save others ; and 
that any negligence towards them, would prove 
dangerous to himself. " Necessity is laid upon 
me," he exclaims, " yea, wo is unto me, if I preach 
not the Gospel." 

At the same time, he regarded the salvation of 
his fellow-men as an object of equal value with his 
own. And knowing them to have been ransomed 
at the same price, by the same stupendous love of 
the Saviour, — he partook, in a degree, of this love, 



PREACHING OF PAUL. 341 

having in himself the same mind which was in 
Christ ; and from this motive was urged on to all 
his unwearied exertions for the common salvation. 
He attributes his extraordinary labours in the Gospel 
to the " love of Christ constraining him." For, says 
he, " We thus judge, that if one died for all, then 
were all dead ;" and thence he infers that their 
recovery was possible in no other way than by the 
death of him who has brought life and immortality 
to light. 

The christian teacher who enters into these 
views, entertained by the Apostle, of the nature of 
the gospel salvation, of the price at which it was 
purchased, and of its infinite importance to the 
souls of men ; can be in no want of motives suf- 
ficiently powerful to excite his utmost diligence 
and fidelity. All his talents will of course be ex- 
ercised and occupied in persuading men to accept 
the gospel terms. . 

In these attempts, it will be his first care to 
gain and secure their attention. Much will depend 
upon his skill in the arts of persuasion, on his taste 
and judgment in adapting his mode of reasoning 
and his manner of address, to. the circumstances 
and character of his audience, with reference to 
their peculiar habits of thought, their preconceived 
opinions and biasses of mind. In accommodating 
himself to these their known peculiarities, he cannot 
have a better guide than the example of St. Paul. 



342 PREACHING OF PAUL. 

In points not essential, the Apostle becomes all 
things to all men, that, by all means, he may save 
some. With those under the law who believe 
themselves still bound by its ceremonial institutions, 
he observes those institutions after he knows them 
to have been abolished ; while with those who have 
attained to the same knowledge with himself, he 
uses his christian liberty. To. the weak, he be- 
comes as weak, and will eat no meat while the 
world standeth, rather than occasion the weakest 
brother to offend. To every class of converts 
through each grade of religious improvement, 
he adapts his instructions as well as his be- 
haviour, furnishing milk for babes and strong meat 
to those of mature growth ; comforting the feeble- 
minded, while he warns the unruly ; being " gen- 
tle among them, even as a nurse cherisheth her 
children." With respect to the unconverted world, 
he acknowledges himself a debtor to all descriptions 
of men, " both to the Greeks and to the barbarians, 
to the wise and the unwise, ?? by every possible 
method to bring them to the knowledge of the 
truth as it is in Jesus. In addressing these greatly 
diversified characters, with admirable discernment 
he varies his manner and the topics of his dis- 
course in ways best suited to their respective 
capacities, weaknesses, prejudices, errors, and vices. 
To the heathen, worshipping dumb idols, he sets 
forth the absurdity of idolatry. To the Jews, look- 



PREACHING OF PAUL. 843 

ing through Moses and the prophets for their 
promised Messiah, he solemnly testifies that Jesus 
is the Messiah whom they are expecting. To the 
awakened jailor inquiring, " What shall I do to be 
saved?" he immediately answers, " Believe on 
the Lord Jesus Christ ;" while with the hardened, 
unprincipled Felix, in order to excite in him the 
concern already felt by the jailor, he reasons of 
righteousness, temperance, and a judgment to come. 

Thus plainly does he deal with the man under 
whose power he is fallen. Amidst bonds and im- 
prisonment, while loaded with fetters of iron, un- 
awed, and fearless of those who can kill the body 
only, he boldly preaches justice to an unjust judge, 
continence to his lewd and adulterous wife, and a 
future judgment to them both. 

The event of Paul's reasoning with Felix, 
though the impression at the time was equal to 
any thing to be expected from preaching, shows 
that sinful men may efface the deepest impressions, 
stifle and resist the strongest convictions, and, in 
this way, disappoint the most promising appear- 
ances, rendering abortive all human means and 
endeavours for their salvation. " Felix trembled !?? 
How strong must have been his emotions ! How 
exquisite his feelings ! A degree of faith had en- 
tered his mind, and given rise to those feelings and 
emotions. He was at the moment persuaded, or 
strongly apprehensive, that the things taught by 



344 PREACHING OF PAUL. 

the Apostle were true. They so far gained the 
assent of his understanding and conscience, as to 
overwhelm him with terror. But still his heart 
was so enslaved to his lusts, so shackled with the 
bands of wickedness, that he could not resolve to 
shake them off. He chose rather to shake off his 
fears, by turning his attention from the cause of them. 
He dismissed the preacher, though with an intima- 
tion, perhaps at the time sincere, that at some 
future season which, he supposes, will be more 
convenient, he would hear further. That season 
seems never to have occurred. With the present 
delay, all the hopes and prospects of the Gospel 
which had begun to unfold, were at once and 
finally closed. Thus the accepted time and the 
day of salvation were lost. This melancholy 
result is recorded on purpose that it might serve, 
through all succeeding ages, as a solemn warn- 
ing against a double-minded conduct in religion, 
against all wavering and trifling in our eternal con- 
cerns, against disregarding the better thoughts and 
sentiments of our hearts, or shutting our eyes 
against the light that has begun to dawn on our 
understandings ; against delaying to any future 
season, that sincere and thorough reformation which, 
whenever effected, must commence in an awakened 
sense of our guilt and danger. May divine grace 
render the warning effectual to all and every one 
in this assembly ! 



SERMON XIX. 



5IERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE. 



MATTHEW xii. 7. 

But if ye had known what this meaneth, I will 
have mercy and not sacrifice, ye would not 
have condemned the guiltless. 

It appears from the preceding context, that as 
our Saviour was passing a cornfield upon the sab- 
bath, his disciples plucked some ears to satisfy 
their hunger. The captious Pharisees instantly 
accused them of violating the sanctity of the day. 
Together with several other arguments urged in 
their vindication, Jesus reminded their accusers, 
that they would not have been so hasty in thus 
condemning the innocent, if they had rightly un- 
derstood the divine declaration by the Prophet — 
" I will have mercy and not sacrifice." 

In these words, two sorts of duties are men- 
tioned ; mercy, a duty of a moral nature towards 
men ; and sacrifice, a ritual or ceremonial duty 
44 



846 MERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE. 

towards God. These are compared, and the pre- 
ference given to mercy. Both indeed were enjoin- 
ed by the same divine authority. In the ancient 
forms of religion, sacrifices possessed a principal 
place ; but no external rites can, in their nature, 
be equally important with the inward exercises of 
the heart ; nor so essential to true religion, as the 
duties of self-preservation, or as those of charity 
mid beneficence to mankind. The latter being in? 
themselves the weightier things of the law, must, 
in case of competition, take place of the former. 
We arc to forego the stated worship of God, and' 
the sanctification of the Sabbath, rather than ne- 
glect works of necessity and mercy. True religion 
essentially consists in our sincere and supreme 
regard for God. That our hearts be right with 
him, comprehends the sum of our duty. Our 
Saviour tells us that the first and great command- 
ment is, " to love the Lord our God with all our 
heart." But as the hearts and dispositions of men 
are expressed and manifested by their actions, our 
regard for God must appear in the obedience of 
our lives. Next in importance to the love of God, 
is that other commandment, "to love our neighbour 
as ourselves." Obedience to this is, in itself, 
more important and more acceptable to God, than 
the show of respect to him in the forms of religious 
worship. Both indeed are required, as the proper 
modes of manifesting our love to God ; and though 



MERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE,. 347 

our obedience ought, and, when it is sincere, will 
be, in some good measure, universal ; yet some 
duties are more weighty than others, and partake 
more of the nature of true religion. That this 
pre-eminence belongs to the social virtues above 
ritual institutions, or the outward forms of worship, 
will appear if we consider, 

First, That moral duties are more insisted 
upon in Scripture, than ritual observances, or the 
forms of worship. The inspired writers more 
frequently mention, and lay greater stress upon 
the practice of justice, truth, and mercy, than they 
do on fasting, praying, sacrificing, or any other 
religious form. When Isaiah describes the charac- 
ter of the man, who shall not only escape the de- 
vouring fire, but " whose dwelling shall be on 
high, whose place of defence shall be the munition 
of rocks ■;" he exhibits him as " walking righteous- 
ly, speaking uprightly, despising the gain of op- 
pression, shaking his hands from the holding of 
bribes, stopping his ears from the hearing of blood, 
and shutting his eyes from seeing evil." When 
Daniel urges Nebuchadnezzar to a reformation, as 
the only mean to ward off or delay the calamity 
which was impending over him ; his words are, 
" Wherefore, O king, let my counsel be acceptable 
unto thee, and break off thy sins by righteousness, 
and thine iniquities by shewing mercy to <the poor, 
if it may be a lengthening of thy tranquillity." 



348 MERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE. 

A similar strain is adopted by all the prophets 
in their calls and exhortations to amendment. 
They particularize and dwell upon the moral duties, 
the various branches of social virtue. Nor are the 
writers of the New Testament less urgent upon 
these topics. In the answers given by John the 
Baptist, the forerunner of Christ, to the various 
classes of people who received his baptism and 
sought his advice, he especially cautioned them 
against the immoralities to which their respective 
situations and callings exposed them. To the 
common people saying, What shall we do ? " he 
answered, He that hath two coats, let him impart 
to him that hath none ; and he that hath meat, 
let him do likewise. Then came also the publi- 
cans to be baptized, and said unto him, Master, 
what shall we do ? He said unto them, Exact no 
more than what is appointed you. The soldiers 
likewise demanded of him, saying, And what shall 
we do ? He said unto them, Do violence to no 
inan, neither accuse any falsely, and be content 
with your wages." In each of these replies, moral 
duties only, justice, truth, and mercy, are named. 
To these our Saviour himself, throughout his 
preaching, exhorted men as of next importance to 
the love of God and the internal exercises of piety 
towards him. His sermon upon the mount prin- 
cipally consists in particularizing, explaining, and 
enforcing these duties. How much they are en- 



\ 



MERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE. 349 

larged upon in the Apostolic epistles, must be 
known to every reader. Even that to the Romans, 
in which the doctrines of grace are so amply dis- 
cussed, concludes with several whole chapters on 
the social virtues. It may be observed, 

Secondly, That when the Scriptures compare 
these virtues with the externals of God's worship, 
they represent them as more acceptable in his 
sight. By quoting Hosea in the text, our Saviour 
gives his sanction to the opinion of the prophet, 
that mercy is above sacrifice. Similar instances 
of this preference occur throughout the sacred 
writings. From the ninth to the eighteenth verse 
of the first chapter of Isaiah, the prophet explicitly 
states these two kinds of duties. He first admits 
that the Jews, degenerate and corrupt as they were, 
still preserved with great exactness the forms of 
religious worship, abounded in sacrifices and obla- 
tions, observed the sabbaths, new moons, and ap- 
pointed festivals, and attended the solemn meetings, 
habitually appearing before God, treading his courts, 
spreading forth their hands, and making many 
prayers. All these were instituted duties, yet, as 
performed by a hypocritical people, the prophet 
declares that God had no pleasure in them ; nay, 
that he was weary to bear them. He then goes 
on to particularize those moral, social duties 
which consist in " seeking judgment, relieving the 
oppressed, judging the fatherless, and pleading for 



350 MERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE. 

the widow," as things incomparably more accepta^ 
ble in the sight of God. 

A similar representation again occurs in the 
fifty-eighth chapter of this book. There the peo- 
ple are described as attempting to secure the divine 
favour by the outward marks of humiliation, by 
frequent fasting, hanging down their head like a 
bulrush, spreading sackcloth on their loins, and 
sitting in ashes. After speaking lightly of all these, 
as mere hypocritical performances, the prophet 
proceeds to mention the substantial works of right- 
eousness as things which would not fail of the 
divine approbation, — that if they would "loose the 
bands of wickedness, undo the heavy burdens, 
break every yoke, let the oppressed go free, deal 
their bread to the hungry, bring the poor that were 
cast out to their house, and when they saw the 
naked, would clothe them ;" if they would make 
conscience of these moral, social duties ; their 
public affairs would speedily emerge from their 
present depression and gloom, and their " light 
would break forth as the morning." In the sixth 
chapter of Micah, the people are introduced thus 
inquiring, " Wherewith shall I come before the 
Lord, and bow myself before the high God ? 
Shall I come before him with burnt-offerings, with 
calves of a year old ? Will the Lord be pleased 
with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of 
rivers of oil ? Shall I give my first-born for my 



MERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE. 351 

transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of 
my soul ?" To these interrogatories, this answer 
is given, " He hath shewed thee, O man, what is 
good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but 
to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with 
thy God ?" You will observe that justice, mercy, 
and humility are here mentioned, as comprising 
the sum of what God requires of man, and as 
things of which the practice is far more acceptable 
in his sight than thousands of rams or ten thous- 
and rivers of oil. 

In the seventh chapter of Zechariah, to the 
Jews, after their return from Babylon, inquiring of 
the prophets and priests, whether they should still' 
continue the fasts and stated seasons of humilia- 
tion which had been observed during their captivity, 
this answer is returned ; " Thus speaketh the 
Lord of hosts, saying, Execute true judgment and 
shew mercy and compassions every man to his 
brother. Oppress not the widow, nor the father- 
less, the stranger, nor the poor, and let none of you 
imagine evil against his brother in his heart." Yen 
will observe that in this answer all the directions: 
relate to the social virtues. To these the same 
preference is given by Jeremiah, and indeed by all 
the prophets. 

From the passages already quoted, it appears 
that God's ancient people, in times of great degen- 
eracy, did often keep up the forms of religious 



*>52 MERCr BEFORE SACRIFICE. 

worship, while they were most grossly and crimin- 
ally deficient in works of righteousness. They 
professed to seek God daily, pretended a delight 
in approaching him, in asking of him the ordinan- 
ces of justice, in fasting, praying, sacrificing, and 
the other forms of worship ; while at the same 
time, they were so deficient in the moral duties, 
that " judgment was driven away backward, justice 
stood afar off, truth fell in the streets, and equity 
could not enter." While they seemed to abound 
in religion, they were destitute of honesty. While 
they filled their mouths with professions of respect 
for God and his service, they filled their lives with 
falsehood and fraud, with avarice and extortion in 
their dealings with one another. " From the least 
of them even unto the greatest of them," says 
Jeremiah, u every one is given to covetousness ; and 
from the prophet, even unto the priest, every one 
dealeth falsely." Hence we perceive that forms 
of devotion and acts of worship, are not so repug- 
nant to the lusts and passions of men, as are the 
moral duties. The Pharisees in our Saviour's time 
made long prayers, while they scrupled not to de- 
vour widows' houses. They conscientiously tithed 
mint, anise, and cummin, and yet felt no remorse 
in daily violating the obligations of judgment, 
mercy, and faith. But I observe, 

Thirdly, That when the Scriptures exhort 
Christians to show their faith by their works, they 



MERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE. 353 

seem principally to refer to works of moral, social 
goodness, such as proceed from an honest and good 
heart ; from a meek, patient, forgiving, and char- 
itable temper ; from a disposition universally kind 
and beneficent. The apostle James, who so 
largely insists upon our proving our faith by our 
works, seems to have special reference to works of 
social goodness, and of beneficence to our fellow- 
men. He declares that " pure religion and unde- 
fined before God and the Father, is this, to visit the 
fatherless and widows in their affliction ; and to 
keep ourselves unspotted from the world, — that the 
wisdom which is from above, is first pure, then 
peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated, full of mer- 
cy and good fruits." When St. John mentions 
the keeping of God's commandments as the best 
evidence of our saving knowledge of him, the 
command to which he particularly refers thoughout 
his epistle, is that which requires us to " love one 
another." In his view, the love of the brethren 
is one of the surest proofs of our being possessed 
of the love of God. It may be observed, 

Fourthly, That our Saviour has warned us, 
that at the last day we shall be judged much more 
by our works of morality to men, than by our acts 
of worship to God. The latter will be urged in 
vain by those who have neglected the former. 
When the assembled race of men shall stand be- 
fore the final Judge, many will plead the soundness 
45 



354 MERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE. 

of their faith, their zealous professions of devotion 
to him, their attendance upon his ordinances and 
instructions, that they have heard him teach in their 
synagogues and streets, that they have eaten and 
drunk in his presence, and have even prophesied in his 
name, to whom he will notwithstanding profess, " I 
never knew you." These externals of religion, my 
brethren, will not be the grounds on which our 
character and state on that day will be determined. 
No ; the grand inquiries will then be — whether 
from respect to Christ and his commands, ye have 
fed the hungry, clothed the naked, relieved the 
distressed, visited the sick, the imprisoned, and 
afflicted, and, by a tender sympathy, soothed and 
assuaged the pains and sorrows of your brethren — 
whether in imitation of him who went about doing 
good, ye have abounded in works of beneficence 
to the souls and bodies of men. But sufficient 
has been said to show you the importance of the 
moral virtues, and their superior worth in God's ac- 
count to ritual observances and the forms of worship. 
If it be said that the object of worship is great- 
er than the object of moral duties — that God is 
infinitely greater than the whole race of men, and 
that, of course, homage to him is a duty more 
incumbent than doing good to men ; it must be 
remembered that love to God, or the devotion of 
the heart to him, has been already admitted as the 
first and great commandment, and that from this 



MERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE. 355 

principle our beneficence to men and the moral 
virtues are to proceed. We are far from exalting 
these above the principle which originates them. 
What we affirm is, that they are better proofs of 
that principle than forms of worship. The great 
thing which God requires, is obedience. " To 
obey is better than sacrifice." " Not every one who 
saith, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom 
of heaven, but he that doth the will of God." His 
will is as truly obeyed in acts of righteousness, 
truth, and mercy to men, as in those of worship to 
himself. He is obeyed in both, but in the former 
he considers himself as most honoured. The 
question is not, who shall be served first, God or 
man ; but, which way of obedience is most accep- 
table to God. This is affirmed to be that of doing; 
good to men, because, 

First, Forms of worship are but instrumental 
duties, and, in themselves, of little use any farther 
than as they express or cherish the devotion of the 
heart ; while acts of righteousness and charity to 
men, have in themselves the very matter of moral 
right and fitness. When you perform works of 
righteousness, pay a just debt, give to the hireling 
his due, are punctual to your promise, or faithful 
to your trust,—- in each of these instances, right 
takes place ; or if you relieve the distressed, show 
mercy to the poor, and sympathize with the afflict- 
ed, — these things are a doing good. They to whom 



356 MERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE. 

justice is rendered, are thereby benefited ; and 
they to whom mercy is shown, are thereby 
relieved. These things are good and profitable to 
men. 

But a second reason for preferring these to acts 
of worship, is, that while the latter show respect 
to God in profession only, the former manifest it 
in deeds. If a man who has hitherto lived a 
heathen, becomes a convert to Christianity, submits 
to baptism, and joins the visible church, — in all 
this he but makes a profession. If he attend all 
the externals of God's worship, still these amount 
to nothing more than a profession. Their whole 
import is comprised in calling Christ, " Lord, 
Lord !" But justice, truth, and mercy are deeds, 
things more solid and substantial. These are a 
better and a stronger evidence of the inward tem- 
per. A man's character is more known by the 
general tenor of his actions, than by his verbal 
professions. 

Among those who professedly place the whole 
of religion in disinterested benevolence, are some- 
times found the most selfish and mercenary char- 
acters in the whole community. Great pretensions 
to religion, high and loud professions of it, are 
generally suspicious ; especially when they hold 
forth claims to exclusive religion. Exclusive 
Christians, and exclusive patriots, may, without 
any breach of charity, be supposed to be equally 



MERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE. 357 

hollow. Real religion, like her divine Author, is 
" meek and lowly in heart." She studiously shuns 
whatever is showy or noisy. She seeks not to 
attract the attention and praise of men. Her 
mild and silent influence she never wishes to dis- 
play, having no other solicitude but to be known 
and accepted of God. Hence her virtues appear 
not so much in profession as in practice, according 
to the exhortation of St. John, to " love, not in 
word or tongue only, but in deed and in truth." 
In no way can we honour God and religion more 
than by showing our respect for them by our moral 
virtues. 

A religious profession, good words, and good 
promises, accompanied with bodily exercises and 
outward observances, cost but little. To the 
depraved heart, it is much easier to perform all 
these things, than to resist the allurements of 
pleasure, decline the advantages of falsehood and 
fraud, forego the gains of extortion, subdue the 
selfish propensities, and answer the various demands 
of justice, truth, and charity in our intercourse 
with our fellow-men. Whoever, from a respect to 
to God, steadily and uniformly abounds in these 
fruits of true religion, must be " an Israelite in- 
deed." But the rites and forms of worship, and 
an evangelical profession and faith, may be recon- 
ciled with the reigning propensities of the depraved 
heart. Have we never seen a covetous worldling, 



358 MERCV BEFORE SACRIFICE. 

a griping usurer, a hard-hearted miser, professing 
himself a Christian, and, with much apparent 
devotion, attending the special ordinances of God's 
worship ? Many come before him as his people, 
while their heart goeth after their covetousness. 
They seem to hope that by honouring God with 
their lips, they may be excused from obeying him 
in their lives. If they be deficient in good works, 
they endeavour to be sound in the articles of their 
faith ; and by doubling their homage to God, 
compensate what is wanting in their charity to 
men. But what father of a family will accept the 
show of extraordinary respect to himself from a 
child, who, by this artifice, seeks to atone for his 
habitual misbehaviour towards his brethren and 
sisters ? Much less can such an attempt succeed 
With the great Parent of the universe. He "is not 
worshipped as if he needed any thing, since he 
giveth unto all life, breath, and all things." 
Our goodness extendeth not to him, but to our 
fellow-men. Our respect for him is to be chiefly 
manifested in our kindness to them. Our returns 
of gratitude to him, are to be expressed in doing 
good to them. He has constituted them to be his 
receivers. " Thy wickedness may hurt a man as 
thou art, and thy righteousnss may profit the 
son of man." But with respect to God, "look 
up to the heavens and see, and behold the clouds 
which are higher than thou. If thou sinnest, what 



MERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE. 359 

dost thou against him ? or if thou be righteous, 
what givest thou him ?" 

From the subject of this discourse, my brethren, 
we learn that revealed religion, in laying this stress 
upon the moral virtues, is gloriously distinguished 
from all false religions. Modern Judaism and 
Mahomedanism, together with all the different 
systems of paganism, principally consist in their 
respective rites and forms of worship. But while 
the votaries of these religions are anxious for noth- 
ing but the accurate performance of their ritual 
ceremonies, the followers of Christ are taught to 
believe that the essence of their religion is not 
meat and drink ; that it consists not in outward 
ordinances or bodily exercises, but " in righteous- 
ness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost ;" that 
its first and fundamental principle is the " love of 
God," and that on this foundation is to be erected 
the whole structure of christian virtue and holiness. 

Hence we are furnished with a criterion by 
which to try the different systems among professed 
Christians. They who, holding the faith as it was 
once delivered to the saints, give the most sub- 
stantial proofs of it in the abundance of their good 
Works, must be considered as approaching the 
nighest to the truth as it is in Jesus ; while they 
who place the chief stress upon mere speculative 
opinions, or on forms of worship and a parade of 
ceremonies, are undoubtedly strangers to the spirit 
of genuine Christianity. 



360 MERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE. 

Wherefore, to conclude, let it be our care, my 
brethren, in forming our religion, not to confine 
it to articles of faith, or forms of worship, but to 
remember that its essential principles are to be 
exhibited in the practice of the social virtues. 
The truth is, that the one we ought to do, and not 
to leave the other undone. We must be universal 
in our obedience. Religion and morality, prayers 
and alms, must accompany one another. Both 
are necessary to form the character of sincere 
Christians. Though morality be of more impor- 
tance than forms of worship, yet neither of them 
will avail to our final salvation in the contemptuous 
or wilful neglect of the other. When these two 
sorts of duties come in competition, religious duties 
must yield to works of charity and mercy. " Go," 
says the Author of our religion, " and learn what 
this meaneth, I will have mercy and not sacrifice. " 
Though the former is to be first and principally 
regarded, yet the latter is not to be neglected. In 
modern times, the chief danger seems to be on this 
latter extreme. 

Among the present men of the world, there 
are many who profess a respect for virtue, and 
affect to value themselves on their truth, probity, 
and public spirit, while they are avowedly indiffer- 
ent to religious duties, and seem to consider them 
as founded on uncertain and shadowy speculations, 
and beneath the attention of enlarged and enlight- 






MERCY BEFORE SACRIFICE. 361 

ened understandings. But such characters must 
be reminded that, whatever good deeds they may 
perform, whatever virtues they may pretend to 
practise, yet, if a principle of obedience to God, 
if a respect to him, be not their motive, they can- 
not look to him for their reward. If they be in- 
fluenced by their own honour, fame, and reputa- 
tion in the world ; verily, in these things they have 
their whole recompense ; and can expect nothing 
from God, as they do nothing from a religious 
regard to him. It is certain that whoever performs 
any duty from a principle of obedience to God, 
will from the same principle make conscience of 
all other duties, and of course will aim at an 
universal obedience. This, and this only, will 
prove us to be real Christians. Then shall we not 
be ashamed, when we have respect to all the 
divine commandments. 



46 



SERMON XX. 



REMEMBERING CHRIST. 



LUKE xxii. 19. 

This do in remembrance of me. 

Thus spake our Saviour when instituting the 
ordinance, called the " Lord's Supper." The cel- 
ebration of this gospel ordinance is the duty here 
enjoined. The best of Christians have so much 
remaining corruption, such a body of sin and death 
within them, and are exposed to so many tempta- 
tions from without — their minds are liable to be so 
overcharged with worldly cares, that they need 
every help to keep alive in their hearts a suitable 
sense of divine things. We should be in danger, 
my brethren, of a most criminal forgetfulness of 
our blessed Redeemer, did we not often repair to 
his table, and there renew in our thoughts the re- 
membrance of what he has done and suffered for 
us, and of what we owe to him. Such a memori- 
al of him must be acknowledged as both wise and 
gracious. In its appointment, our divine Master 



REMEMBERING CHRIST. 363 

has consulted our profit not less than his own hon- 
our. The nature of the institution in all its parts, 
its whole form, rites, and actions, are calculated to 
exhibit Christ, to give us views of him, especially 
in the article of his death, the most impressive and 
affecting. It is a lively representation of his suffer- 
ings for our sakes, and of the benefits which those 
sufferings have procured for us. In this commem- 
oration of him, we behold him symbolically crucified 
before our eyes ; we express our belief of the real- 
ity of his death for our sins, according to the ac- 
count given of it in his word. We acknowledge 
the necessity of such an atonement, of such a price 
for our ransom, for the purchase of our pardon and 
salvation, without which we should have been 
liable in our own persons to all the tremendous 
evils implied in the curse of God's violated law. 
We acknowledge all the superlative blessings ten- 
dered in the Gospel to be the fruit of his merits, 
and express our ardent desire to obtain them by 
complying with the gospel terms. Our eating and 
drinking at the table of the Lord, denote our hearty 
reception of Christ with all his benefits, our union 
to him by faith and love, our penitential grief and 
sorrow of heart for having pierced and wounded 
him by our former sins, our hope of forgiveness 
through his atoning blood, and our firm resolution, 
by divine assistance, to live devoted to him for the 
futyre ; that as we now put on Christ Jesus the 



364 REMEMBERING CHRIST. 

Lord, so we will walk in him, in obedience to him 
and imitation of him, humbly depending on him 
for grace here and glory hereafter. 

The tendency of such devotional acts and exer- 
cises to nourish and strengthen the divine life in 
the souls of believers, and to build them up in 
faith and holiness, cannot be questioned. If we 
have any desire to improve in piety, or any taste 
for its pleasures, must we not, my brethren, delight 
in attending an institution so happily adapted to 
answer these purposes and to promote the welfare 
of our souls. In this ordinance we, guilty worms, 
sinful dust and ashes, are admitted to have fellow- 
ship with the Father, and with his Son, Christ Jesus. 
As often as we attend it, a visible token or seal is 
put upon that everlasting covenant of grace, well 
ordered in all things and sure, into which we are 
admitted by faith in Christ. On his part, it is a 
pledge of his faithfulness in fulfilling to us the 
promises of his word ; on our part, it is a renewed 
engagement of fidelity and perseverance in the 
dedication which we have made of ourselves and 
of our all, to him and his service. It is also a re- 
cognition of those labours and sufferings of his, by 
which this covenant, with all its privileges and 
blessings, has been procured. It is a memorial of 
that death, which has bruised the serpent's head, 
destroyed him that had the power of death, and 
wrested from death its sting — from the grave, its 



REMEMBERING CHRIST. 365 

victory ; which has purchased life for a world 
dead in sin, and thrown open the gates of a blessed 
immortality for the welcome admission of all those 
who believe and obey the Gospel. Thus significant 
are the transactions to which we are called by the 
injunction in the text. u This do in remembrance 
of me," must, when its import is duly considered, 
be a pleasing command to those in whose view 
Christ is precious. To illustrate the obligations, 
and urge the motives, which should induce Christians 
to obey it, is the design of the present discourse. 

It is matter of regret that there should be oc- 
casion for such frequent exhortations to this duty. 
But, alas ! what a falling off, not only from this, 
but from all the other institutions of our holy re- 
ligion, has been witnessed by those of us who are 
advanced in life ! To what can this be owing ? 
The Gospel has not, in itself, depreciated, nor lost 
any degree of its intrinsic worth. It is still, what 
it was deemed to be by the heavenly hosts at our 
Saviour's birth, "glad tidings of great joy to all 
people." It is still a " savour of life unto life" to 
them who believe, the wisdom of God and the 
power of God for the salvation of their souls. It 
is as important and interesting to the present gene- 
ration of men, as it was to their fathers who are 
already gone off the stage. All the attacks of its 
enemies upon it in modern times have been baffled, 
their objections answered, their pretended doubts 



366 REMEMBERING CHRIST. 

solved, their cavils detected and exposed. Its truth 
and credibility have triumphed over all opposition, 
and been rendered more illustrious by the repeat- 
ed examinations — by the many severe scrutinies, 
which they have sustained. Still however there is 
a strange, unaccountable backwardness, not only to 
accept, but even to listen to its offers. Perhaps 
it may be queried whether it be so clearly, fully, 
and persuasively preached, latterly, as it was in the 
days of our fathers. Undoubtedly it is incumbent 
upon its ministers seriously and anxiously to in- 
quire whether some culpable remissness, some 
defect on their part, may not be influential in occa- 
sioning this lamented indifference in those who 
should be hearers. May the God of mercy pardon 
the numerous imperfections of the present speaker, 
and furnish supplies of grace to render him more 
diligent, earnest, and faithful ! 

In the mean while, he is thankful that, amidst 
the acknowledged degeneracy of the times, the 
lukewarmness of many, and the absolute indifference 
and carelessness of a yet greater number, his min- 
istrations are honoured by the attendance of an as- 
sembly composed of characters so generally respect- 
able. He has the satisfaction to believe that, 
among his stated and usual auditors, there are 
few persons whose lives are grossly immoral, or 
who openly indulge in habits and practices incon- 
sistent with the christian character and profession 



REMEMBERING CHRIST. 367 

He has observed with pleasure the exemplary 
conduct of one and another, indeed, of many per- 
sons amongst us, who yet have not, by an explicit 
profession, taken upon themselves the obligations 
of the christian covenant. To this description of 
persons the present address especially and im- 
mediately applies. 

In various respects, my friends, ye testify your 
esteem for the religion of Christ and your regard 
for most of its institutions. In conformity to his 
appointment and in obedience to his authority, you 
forbear your worldly occupations and amusements, 
and sanctify the Lord's day, regarding it as holy 
time, dedicated to the service of God, your Saviour. 
By your regular attendance upon public worship, 
you seem to love the habitation of God's house, and 
the place where his honour dwells. You join in 
prayers and praises to him, and in a serious atten- 
tion to the instructions of his word. By all these 
acts you reverence his ordinances, and seem to de- 
light in these approaches to God. But, after thus 
regarding the common duties of the sanctuary, 
when the Lord's table is spread, and his death, the 
basis of all our hopes, is to be commemorated, ye 
hurry away with the greater part of the assembly, as 
though you had no interest or concern in this discrim- 
inating peculiarity in the religion of Christ. Such 
we are told, was the conduct of heathens in the 
first ages of Christianity. They, as spectators, occa- 



368 REMEMBERING CHRIST. 

sionally attended the assemblies of the Christians, 
but withdrew when the christian mysteries were to 
be celebrated. On no account would ye have it 
believed that your conduct proceeds from a similar 
principle. Ye have perhaps been baptized into the 
name of C hrist, and by this badge of subj ection to him, 
arrayed, like servants in the livery of their master. 
Far from renouncing his name or wishing your 
obligations to him to be set aside, you have no 
idea of any other religion but his, or of any other 
name given under heaven among men, whereby 
ye can be saved. All your hopes rest upon him. 
But with these hopes how can you reconcile your 
continued neglect to obey him in this article of 
showing forth his death ? 

When a thing altogether arbitrary is imposed 
upon us, or required of us, if we see no reason for 
the appointment, and no valuable purpose to be 
answered by the observance of it, we are prone to 
consider it as unimportant, and its neglect unblam- 
able or in a measure excusable. But surely you 
cannot entertain such thoughts of the commemora- 
tion of your Saviour's death. Were the subject, 
in itself, incomparably less interesting than it con- 
fessedly is, it would still merit the most respectful 
notice. Do not all nations agree in eulogizing the 
virtues, and in keeping up, by various methods, a 
grateful memorial of those personages among them, 
who have been eminently useful in their day, the 



REMEMBERING CHRIST. 369 

apparent saviours of their country, or illustrious for 
their public benefactions ? If they have made 
great sacrifices for the good of the state, if they 
have hazarded, and, especially, if they have lost 
their lives in its defence, what monuments are 
erected to their honour ! With what zeal are 
their names recorded in the annals of fame, and 
celebrated in history ! How often are seasons set 
apart professedly to commemorate them, and with 
what alacrity does posterity unite in testifying re- 
spect to their memory ! Can you, my hearers, 
pretend to be the friends of Christ, while you refuse 
to join the number of his professed friends in 
remembering him ? Can you believe yourselves 
indebted to his love for the eternal salvation of the 
Gospel, and yet be indifferent towards the memori- 
als of such astonishing love ? Can you flatter 
yourselves that you have in your hearts, a principle 
of affection and gratitude to the Redeemer, while 
you persist in neglecting what he has left in charge 
to be observed by all his friends and followers? 
How often has his command in the text been re- 
peated in your hearing, " Do this in remembrance 
of me," yet you do it not. 

You will not pretend that the thing in itself is 
difficult to perform, or improper, or unsuitable to 
answer the purpose of the institution. Had it 
been left to ourselves to determine in what way, 
or by what means, to perpetuate the memory of 
47 



370 REMEMBERING CHRIST^ 

Christ and of our obligations to him, what symbols 
could have been chosen, better adapted than those 
which he has appointed ? How easy, as well as 
proper, and suitable, is this mode of remembering 
him ! When Naaman the Syrian leper, thinking 
himself and his application slighted by Elisha, 
turned away from the door of the prophet in a 
rage, his more considerate servants thus remonstrat- 
ed : " My Lord, if the prophet had bidden thee do 
some great thing, wouldst thou not have done it ? 
How much more, when he saith to thee, Wash and 
be clean!" Had Jesus Christ, my brethren, en- 
joined some difficult, painful, or very expensive 
rite, as significant of what is exhibited in the eu- 
charist, should we have hesitated to perform it ? 
Would not love, and gratitude, and a desire of the 
blessings which he has purchased, have constrained 
us to the utmost exertions in performing whatever 
he should have required ? How much more, then, 
when the action directed is one of the most natural 
and easy ; — when he enjoins it upon us as his 
children, dutiful towards him, and affectionate to- 
wards one another, often to meet at his table, and 
there, in a joyful recollection of him, our great 
Deliverer, to eat bread, and drink wine, the one 
broken, the other poured forth, as symbols of his 
body broken, and his blood shed for our sakes, an 
expiation for our guilt ; and while we thus look 
upon him pierced and wounded by our former sins, 



REMEMBERING CHRIST. 371 

to resolve, by assisting grace, to grieve and wound 
him no more. What can be more easy and reason- 
able, what more pleasant and delightful than such 
an institution ? If with reference to his commands 
in general, Christ has said, " My yoke is easy, 
and my burden light," how manifestly true must 
the observation be of this ordinance in special ! 

The vows attending it, do indeed impose re- 
straints upon our passions and lusts ; but they are 
such restraints as our own reason and conscience 
must dictate as necessary to our happiness. Can 
any serious and virtuous mind be cautious of block- 
ing up the wide gate ? Can he wish to see the 
way to ruin still lying open before him ! Can he 
be fearful of being bound too strongly to persevere 
in holiness ? Can ransomed souls, those ransomed 
by the blood of Christ, be afraid of coming under 
obligations to their Redeemer, too strict ? Can 
they think it too much to live to him who has died 
for them ? 

My brethren, all the commands of Christ are 
binding upon us, whether we ourselves acknowledge 
their obligations or not. Our recognition of his 
laws and explicit consent to them, are not necessary 
to their validity, and can add nothing to the power, 
right, and authority over us, of that great Legisla- 
tor by whom they are enacted. If we obey them, 
it is well ; if we obey them not, it is at our peril. 
We are responsible, and, for every allowed failure. 



372 REMEMBERING CHRIST. 

must answer to that impartial judge, who will by 
no means clear the guilty, nor wink at the wilful 
transgression of any one of his commands ; who is 
also able to save and to destroy to an extent infin- 
itely surpassing all human thought, all human con- 
ception. On no occasion, can we have any ration- 
al inquiry but this, namely, What is his will ? 
This being known in any given case or instance, 
nothing remains for us but readily and sincerely to 
obey. There are many things conscientiously 
performed by some of our fellow-christians, of 
which we may be in doubt whether they be duties 
incumbent upon ourselves or not. But no Christian 
can doubt of his obligations to obey the command 
in the text. It is so plain and express, that there 
is no room to evade its authority, and no plea can 
be urged sufficient to excuse its neglect. By turn- 
ing to your bibles, you will find that two other of 
the Evangelists besides Luke, have explicitly re- 
corded the words and transactions of the original 
institution. In the first epistle to the Corinthians, 
you find a fourth repetition of them, and there 
learn that they formed a part of that immediate 
revelation which Paul received from the Lord Jesus 
when he was commissioned to be an Apostle. You 
also find that wherever this apostle, in the execu- 
tion of his commission, made converts and formed 
them into a church, he enjoined upon them the 
observance of this ordinance. Thus he delivered 



REMEMBERING CHRIST. 373 

it to the Corinthians at the time of his first preach- 
ing among them. After his departure, when he 
heard of the irregular and irreverent manner in 
which they observed it, his spirit was greatly moved, 
and he was earnest and zealous to correct such 
abuses. Disturbed however as he was at their 
misbehaviour, he does not hint to them that it 
would be better wholly to omit the institution, nor 
can this be inferred from a single expression used 
on the occasion. Faulty as they were, they are 
still required to attend the sacred table, but fer- 
vently exhorted to do it hereafter with decency, 
reverence, and piety. 

My hearers, if this duty were of so little con- 
sequence as is implied in the practice and affirmed 
in the language of some among its neglecters, why 
have the inspired writers insisted so largely upon it, 
and so often repeated its injunction, accompanied 
with explanations and directions ? What other 
duty is the subject of more frequent, or of more 
explicit discussion ? What part of the Gospel will 
you obey, if you persist in disobeying this ? May 
you not frame excuses for the neglect of any other 
duty as plausible as any that you can urge for the 
neglect of this ? The want of requisite qualifica- 
tions is perhaps the most general pretence. But 
might not this, with equal reason, be offered as an 
excuse for the neglect of prayer and praise, of all 
private and public devotion ? Nay, in this way, 



374 REMEMBERING CHRIST. 

might ye not excuse voluntary ignorance of the 
Scriptures, of all the doctrines and duties of reli- 
gion ? "If they who know their Lord's will, and 
yet do it not, shall be beaten with many stripes ;" 
if religious knowledge will enhance the future con- 
demnation of those who fail of being sincerely 
religious ; may not all who have any doubts of 
their own sincerity, excuse themselves from the 
means of religious instruction, lest, by attending 
them, they should ultimately bring upon themselves 
an heavier condemnation ? Ye see how unfounded 
and unsubstantial all such excuses must be. If 
ye fear the doom passed upon the man who, in the 
parable, came without a wedding garment, ought 
ye not also to fear the resentment expressed against 
those who slighted the invitation ? Will you ven- 
ture openly to disobey Christ, in order to avoid 
the danger of insincerity in your attempts to obey 
him ? As we have much to hope whilst honestly 
attempting our duty, have we not also much to fear 
while persisting in its neglect ? Can ye foresee 
what consequences- may follow from your continued 
omission ? 

The ill tendency of the example which ye set 
before your family, friends, and all who are likely 
to be influenced by your conduct, is manifest and 
undeniable. You are leading them into the ne- 
glect of the memorials of their own redemption. 
You are leading them to disregard an ordinance 



REMEMBERING CHRIST* 375 

intended to keep up a remembrance of Christ in 
the world, and be a monument of the truth of his 
religion till his second coming. Were all to follow 
your example, this memorial of him would cease 
from among men. As it was originally appointed 
to promote our growth in grace, is there not dan- 
ger that, by neglecting it, ye may become less 
susceptible of good impressions, and more and more 
estranged from the power of holiness ? Or if you 
should still retain a sense of religion, may it not 
prove at last, when you shall find yourselves on a 
sick and dying bed, a subject of regret and concern, 
of disquietude and dejection, of remorse, if not of 
despair, that ye have never complied with this 
part of your duty ? 

With what solicitude do we perform the last 
commands of our dying parents and friends ! The 
command in the text was among the last charges 
given by our Saviour to his disciples. " The same 
night in which he was betrayed," with his dying 
breath, he said to his followers, " Do this in re- 
membrance of me." While the traitor was concert- 
ing measures with his enemies for his arrest, and 
they were all busily plotting his death, he instituted 
this memorial of it, and with his disciples first cel- 
ebrated it himself as a part of his own preparation 
for the solemn scene. My hearers, may the com- 
mand of such a friend, given on such an occasion, 
be disregarded ? If all our hopes beyond the grave 



376 



REMEMBERING CHRIST. 



rest upon him, is not the remembrance of him im- 
portant and even essential to our being prepared for 
death ? When you think of this change as approach- 
ing, when the deaths of others admonish you of 
the uncertainty of life ; when you bring the thought 
home to your bosoms, that within a few weeks or 
days, you may be called to follow those gone al- 
ready, have ye no anxiety for the consequences ? 
Can ye be sure of salvation while ye neglect the 
very things by which ye are commanded to make 
your calling and election sure ? We know not the 
day or the hour when our Lord will come either by 
death or at the judgment. In general, we are warn- 
ed that it will be sudden and surprising to all who 
delay their preparation. If this warning should 
fail to influence those who neglect the memorials 
of his death, yet it ought surely to quicken those 
of us who attend them, to do it with reverence and 
godly fear, and to see to it that our lives be answer- 
able to our high and holy profession, circumspect 
and blameless in all other respects, as well as in 
regard to the positive institutions of religion. 



SERMON XXI. 



WALK TO EMMAUS. 



LUKE xxiv. 35. 

And they told what things were done in the way, 
and how he was known of them in breaking 
of bread. 

Never, perhaps, were pious minds more dread- 
fully disappointed, more confounded and astonish- 
ed, than were the disciples of our Saviour, on 
witnessing his expiration on the cross. The 
weakness and timidity which they betrayed on his 
first apprehension, and during the process of his 
trial, seem to have been the natural effect of their 
general habits and character. Plain and simple 
minds, educated among the lower classes of socie- 
ty, always accustomed to reverence their civil and 
religious superiors, and to stand in awe of their 
authority, were naturally panic-stricken when they 
saw the man to whom they had most intimately 
attached themselves, arrested by an armed force 
commissioned by the supreme council of the 
48 



378 WALK TO EMMAUS. 

nation. They wished to witness his innocence , 
to bear a testimony in his favour, that might clear 
him of whatever was alleged against him ; but they 
had never appeared at such a tribunal, and had no 
talents to speak or plead on such an occasion. 
Their first consternation was so great, that they 
instantly dispersed in different directions, each 
consulting his own safety. They could not, how- 
ever, forget their beloved master. Though they 
dared not themselves make any attempt for his 
relief or aid, yet they undoubtedly hoped that he 
would find some method to effect his own deliver- 
ance. Having witnessed, in so many illustrious 
instances, his supernatural power, the thought 
must have occurred to them, that he who rescued 
Lazarus from the power of death, and brought 
him up out of the grave, could not be at a loss how 
to save himself on the present emergency. Even 
while he was hanging suspended upon the cross, 
some feeble hope was probably entertained, that 
he would at length, by a miraculous effort, to the 
confusion of his enemies and the astonishment of 
all the spectators, come down from the cross un- 
hurt and triumphant. 

But when he had actually given up the ghost, 

_and after his dead body was deposited in the tomb, 

the faith and hope of his disciples were more than 

staggered. The deepest gloom overwhelmed their 

minds. He had indeed, while he was yet with 



WALK TO EMMAUS. 379 

them, repeatedly warned them of the things which 
had now taken place ; but they never realized nor 
understood those expressions which predicted his 
approaching death. That he was to die and rise 
again, though so often foretold, were events of 
which they had no conception, nor the most dis- 
tant apprehension. All that they had heard upon 
these subjects, struck their minds as dark sayings, 
inexplicable mysteries, into which they did not 
attempt to penetrate. Having been his chosen 
attendants through the whole course of his public 
ministry, whom he had adopted, instructed, presid- 
ed over, and cared for as children ; whose interests 
were blended with his own, as members of his 
family ; towards whom he had uniformly shown 
all the marks of the most endeared friendship ; — 
they felt his death as a wound to their tender 
passions, and a privation of their enjoyments, 
greater and more dreadful than they could have 
suffered by the demise of any other relative, — 
while no language can describe, nor any imagina- 
tion paint the blast which it seemed to bring upon 
their hopes and prospects. 

They had viewed him as more than man, a 
messenger from God, a prophet greater than any 
of their former prophets, — nay, they had acknowl- 
edged him as the son of God, the true and prom- 
ised Messiah, whose coming their whole nation 
fervently desired and had been long expecting. 



380 WALK TO EMMAUS. 

Under this persuasion, they had become his disci- 
ples, and had relinquished their earthly all to follow 
him. They had considered his doctrines as the 
words of eternal life, and had made him the basis 
of all their hopes, as well as the object of their 
supreme affection ; confiding in him as that mighty 
Saviour who would rescue Israel from every foreign 
yoke, vanquish all their enemies, and establish the 
long expected kingdom of God among men. So 
full and fixed had they been in these ideas of him, 
that Peter, before he was put to the test, hesitated 
not to declare his readiness to die in defence of 
them. But, to their utter amazement, they had 
now seen this Prince and Saviour, whom they had 
deemed superior to all opposition, taken up and 
proceeded against as an impostor. And, on his 
public trial, instead of vindicating his claim to be 
the Messiah, in the presence of the assembled 
rulers, — bearing down, and silencing their objec- 
tions, — they had seen him sinking, and apparently 
crushed under their power. Instead of sitting 
upon the throne of David, receiving the homage of 
his subjects, they had beheld him suspended on 
the cross, a spectacle of scorn to the world, — for- 
saken by God, given up a victim to death, and 
swallowed up by the grave ; while his enemies 
were every where exulting in his death as that of 
a great deceiver. 



WALK TO EMMAUS. 381 

These events occurring so contrary to all the 
ideas of the Messiah entertained by the disciples, 
and to all their expectations from him, it is not 
perhaps possible for us fully to enter into their 
feelings, or to conceive the tumult of thought, the 
confusion and agitation of mind, which they must 
have experienced during the interval from his 
death to his resurrection. Circumstanced as they 
were, and endued with the sensibilities common to 
honest, upright minds, their distress must have 
been unspeakable. No men, before or since, ever 
were or could be in a situation precisely similar 
to theirs ; where such vast interests and prospects 
were suspended upon what appeared to them so 
dreadful an uncertainty. 

Not the interests of the present handful of 
disciples only, but those of the whole human race, 
from the first progenitors down to the last suc- 
cession of their posterity, were involved on that 
occasion. It was the general hope of man that 
was seen trembling on the point of suspense. Had 
not Christ risen, the whole scheme of human 
redemption must have failed. The faith and hope 
of God's people throughout all ages, must have 
proved vain and unfounded. As he died for our 
sins, so he rose again for our justification. His 
resurrection sanctioned and established that reli- 
gion which comprises the present and future well- 
being of the whole species ; a religion which is 



382 WALK TO EMMAUS. 

the support of the weak, the confidence of the 
humble, the refuge of the miserable, the relief of 
the distressed ; at the same time that it is not less 
interesting to the greatest, the most powerful, and 
most exalted among men, — being adapted to all 
ranks and all situations in life, to all times, places, 
ages, and nations ; — a religion whose spirit disen- 
gages its votaries from all terrestrial objects, and 
fills their minds with the prospects of immortality ; 
which purifies, refines, exalts, and ennobles their 
thoughts and affections, inspiring them with a 
sense 'of the dignity of their nature, and of the 
great end of their designation ; which associates 
them with the spirits of heaven, and teaches them 
to look forward to eternity as their inheritance; 
— " a religion so majestic in its simplicity, so sub- 
lime in its doctrine, so magnificent in its object, 
and so astonishing in its effects, that its very nature, 
to all who duly reflect upon it, demonstrates its 
divine and heavenly origin." This religion, with 
all it comprises, rests on the fact of the Saviour's 
resurrection, and remained problematical till that 
fact was ascertained. 

Undoubtedly some of the disciples recollected 
the hints which he had given, that he should rise 
again on the third day, but none of them seem to 
have expected it. His enemies also remembered 
these hints, and therefore they set a watch over 
the sepulchre, to prevent his disciples from stealing 



WALK TO EMMAUS. 383 

him away by night, and not from any apprehen- 
sion that he would actually rise. Of this they 
had little fear, and his disciples as little hope. 
The minds of the latter were so possessed with 
the general prejudice of their nation, that the 
Messiah " should abide forever," that when he 
was dead, they gave up all for lost. Humbled, 
mortified, covered with confusion, and sinking 
under the prostration of all their hopes, how exqui- 
sitely wretched must have been their feelings ! 
On the morning of the third day, however, they 
were suddenly surprised with the report of some 
female friends, who had made an early visit to 
the sepulchre. At first, no doubt, a gleam of hope 
darted in upon their minds ; but the gloom soon 
returned. On further reflection, the greater part 
of the Apostles were inclined to attribute the 
report of the women to some illusion on their 
senses, or to consider it as the mere vision of their 
disturbed imaginations. On the whole, their 
words were regarded as " idle tales;" and as the 
day advanced, the important fact, so far from being 
ascertained, remained in the most anxious sus- 
pense at the time when Cleopas and another dis- 
ciple set out on their journey to Emmaus, a village 
between seven and eight miles distant from Jeru- 
salem. 

In the character of a stranger going the same 
way, Jesus joined company with these travellers, 



384 



WALK TO EMMAUS. 



and having noticed the concern of their minds, 
so strongly depicted in their countenances, in- 
quired the cause of their trouble, and the topic 
of their discourse. " What communications are 
these which ye have as ye walk by the way, and 
are sad?" But though he entered with such 
admirable facility into the subject of all their 
doubts, clearing them up, and showing the propri- 
ety and necessity of the things which had happen- 
ed, by quotations from Moses and all the Prophets, 
— expounding and applying these prophecies to the 
present events, and pointing out their agreement 
with each other ; yet all this while, these disciples 
had not the least suspicion that it was their Lord 
himself who was conversing with them. They 
were, notwithstanding, so agreeably entertained, 
edified, and comforted by his discourse, that they 
would take no refusal of their invitation to him to 
spend the night with them at their lodgings. When 
supper was ready, as they came to the table, the 
stranger, to the wonder of all present, acted as 
head of the family ; took bread, blessed, then 
brake and distributed it to the company. As 
Jesus performed this act in the same manner in 
which he had been accustomed while he was yet 
with them, it was a circumstance which could not 
fail to open the eyes of the disciples, and effect the 
discovery which he had hitherto avoided. It led 
them to fix their eyes upon him more intently 



WALK TO EMM AUS. 385 

than they had done before ; when, to their unutter- 
able astonishment and joy, they instantly knew 
him, and saw plainly and infallibly that it was 
their beloved master himself. 

Being now known, he instantly withdrew 
from their sight, before they could acknowledge or 
embrace him. Their satisfaction and joy, however, 
were complete, and too important and transporting 
to be confined to their own bosoms. They hast- 
ened to make the communication to their still 
mourning brethren. Late as it was, they set out 
that very hour of the night on a speedy return to 
the city. They found the Apostles and others 
with them assembled together, and before they 
had time to begin their story, were saluted with 
the annunciation, " The Lord is risen indeed, and 
hath appeared to Simon." Then the two travel- 
lers went on and " told what things were done in 
the way, and how he was known of them in 
breaking of bread." Thus it pleased him who 
is touched with the feeling of our infirmities, in 
compassion to his weeping followers, by discover- 
ing himself to them on the very day of his resur- 
rection, to turn their darkness into light, their 
deepest sorrows into joy ineffable. What a tran- 
sition from the depths of dejection and desponden- 
cy to the utmost elevation of hope, and exultation 
the most triumphant ! 
49 



386 WALK TO EMMAUS. 

With respect to ourselves, my christian breth- 
ren, though we are not, in the present state, to 
expect a similar corporeal vision of Christ ; though 
we may not hope, while here on earth, to see him 
with our bodily eyes ; yet it is certain that in a 
spiritual sense he is seen by true believers while 
here on earth. To them he comes, and to them 
he makes the most gracious discoveries of his 
perfections and glory. They know him with a 
knowledge of which others are destitute. In at- 
tending upon his ordinances, especially in the 
■" breaking of bread" in remembrance of him, he 
is sometimes made known unto their souls, in a 
manner which fills them with joy and peace in 
believing. 

As this kind -of knowledge essentially consists 
in discerning, admiring, and adoring the moral 
beauty, excellence, and glory of Christ ; so its 
tendency is to assimilate us into the same image, 
and fashion us into a resemblance to him who is 
the object of our love and devotion. Some of the 
principal lineaments and features of his character 
are indelibly stamped upon all who possess a sav- 
ing knowledge of him. They have the same mind 
in them which was in him, and are led by his 
spirit. The ends sought by him, the great and 
elevated views by which he was governed, have 
an influence upon them. They are anxious to 
conform to the model which he has set them — to 



WALK TO EMMAUS. 387 

copy after him in his indifference towards worldly 
objects, in his zeal for the divine honour, and sub- 
mission to the divine will ; in his humility, meek- 
ness, patience, disinterested benevolence to man- 
kind, and unwearied endeavours for their salvation. 
These characteristics of the Saviour, are, in a 
measure, the discriminating features of all who 
have truly known him. "We all," says the 
Apostle, " with open face beholding as in a glass 
the glory of the Lord, are changed into the .same 
image from glory to glory, even as by the spirit of 
the Lord." 

Here, then, my brethren, is the criterion by 
which we are to judge of ourselves, whether we 
be truly acquainted with the Redeemer or not. If, 
upon an impartial review, the proofs should seem 
to be in your favour, still you will not rest in past 
discoveries. In every approach to the ordinance 
before us, you will draw nigh with earnest desires 
to see Jesus. On the present occasion may he be 
made known to each communicant in the breaking 
of bread] May we all, in beholding him symbol- 
ically crucified, entertain such views of his perfec- 
tions and glory, as shall render us henceforward 
like him, unwavering in our faith in him, steadfast 
in our imitation of him, and in our obedience to 
him, that he may dwell in us and we in him. 



SERMON XXII. 



COMING TO CHRIST. 



JOHN vi. 68. 

Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom 
shall we go ? thou hast the words of eternal 
life. 

In the verse but one preceding the text, we thus 
read : " From that time many of his disciples went 
back, and walked no more with him." They had 
hitherto followed after him, and attended upon 
his preaching ; but taking umbrage at some of his 
doctrines, and finding no encouragement for their 
carnal views, they withdrew to their secular pur- 
suits, giving over all hope and expectation from 
him. Being thus forsaken by numbers who had 
professed themselves his disciples, our Lord saw 
fit to try the faith and constancy of the twelve 
Apostles, by saying to them, " Will ye also go 
away ?" You see me deserted by the crowd. It 
is at the option of all, whether to abide with me or 



COMING TO CHRIST. 389 

not. I detain none against their will. If ye 
mean to leave me, now is the time, when so many 
set the example. To this, Simon Peter, whose 
natural warmth of temper rendered him forward 
on every occasion, answered in the name of the 
rest : Lord, if we were disposed to leave thee, 
" to whom should we go ?" Whither should we 
turn ourselves, where look, or in whom confide as 
a leader to true and ultimate felicity ? " Thou 
hast the words of eternal life." 

My hearers, what Peter here says of the 
instructions dispensed by Christ himself during 
his personal ministry, is to be understood of his 
Gospel. In this, and in this only, are contained " the 
words of eternal life." Though the man Christ 
Jesus be long since passed into the heavens, yet, 
as the Saviour of the world and the Head of the 
church, he is still present wherever his word and 
ordinances are duly administered. In every coun- 
try and among every people favoured with the light 
of the Gospel, Christ is still preaching in their 
synagogues and streets, inviting men to become 
his disciples, and to approve themselves his sincere 
followers. All Christendom profess a regard for 
him, and, in some sort, attend upon his instruc- 
tions. But among these multitudes, there have 
been many, through each successive age, who, 
stumbling or taking offence at his doctrines, have 
professedly or practically renounced all relation to 



390 COMING TO CHRIST. 

him. This is a guilt not chargeable upon the 
heathen nations. They who have not known 
Christ, nor sustained a professed relation to him, 
cannot be said to forsake him. Of course, their 
condemnation will be far less aggravated than that 
of those who perish from under the Gospel. 
With reference to the unbelieving Jews, our Sav- 
iour says, "If I had not come and spoken unto 
them, they woujd not have had sin," that is, no sin 
comparable with that of which they are now 
guilty, by rejecting me and my doctrines. This 
should be regarded as an awful admonition to 
ourselves against copying after them in their un- 
belief. By his Gospel, Christ has come and spoken 
unto us ; but many among us attend not upon his 
instructions. They turn their backs upon his 
word and ordinances, and show that they love 
darkness rather than light. Not a few, like the 
unbelieving Jews of old, complain of mysteries in 
the Gospel, and deeming them too hard and diffi- 
cult for their faith, openly avow the principles of 
infidelity. 

My hearers, were the question to be put to 
ourselves, " Will ye also go away ?" should we 
universally answer, with the firmness and confi- 
dence of Peter in the text, " Lord, to whom shall 
we go ? thou hast the words of eternal life." 
In so saying, after duly weighing the subject, 
Peter expresses a full and perfect conviction that 



COMING TO CHRIST. 391 

by Christ alone we have any hope of future and 
everlasting felicity. A similar conviction would 
undoubtedly be produced in each of our minds, 
did we consider the case with that attention, inter- 
est, and concern, with which it was regarded by 
Peter and his brethren. It is the object of the 
present discourse, to recommend it to those who 
are under temptations to forsake Christ or to 
disregard his religion, seriously to consider to 
whom they will go, or where they will look for 
happiness, after having relinquished the hope3 
of the Gospel. " Lord, to whom shall we 
go ?" 

In all men there is a natural thirst after happi- 
ness. Who will show us any good ? is the general 
inquiry. We feel our own emptiness and insufficien- 
cy, and are constrained to look without ourselves for 
the objects of our felicity. The Gospel points us 
to Christ as the way, the truth, and the life. To 
them who believe and obey him, it promises present 
peace and durable felicity hereafter. But if we 
forsake him, to whom shall we go ? Ought we 
not to consider with what we shall part, when we 
turn away from his religion ? The world by wis- 
dom knew not God. By the Christian revelation 
we have received the good knowledge of him, and 
how to serve him acceptably. It also instructs us 
in every branch of virtue, and in the right govern- 
ment of ourselves upon all occasions. It sets 



392 COMING TO CHRIST. 

before us a system of morals so perfect, that in 
proportion as they prevail, they effectually secure 
the highest social felicity. It enforces its moral du- 
ties by doctrines and motives as cogent and weighty 
as imagination, in its utmost stretch, can conceive. 
As sinners, it tenders us grace to pardon our past 
offences, and to assist our repentance and return to 
virtue. It solves our doubts with respect to our 
future destination ; dispels the darkness, which, 
through the lapse of so many ages, overspread the 
territories of the grave ; assures us of a future 
resurrection from the dead, of a general judgment, 
and of everlasting happiness or misery in a future 
world, according to our good or ill conduct in the 
present state. 

If our minds be well established in the belief 
of these principles, and we suffer them to have their 
due influence upon us, they will purify our hearts 
and lives, refine and ennoble our nature, elevate 
and dignify our character, assuage our sorrows, 
calm our fears, animate our hopes, and ultimately 
crown us with life everlasting. Is such a religion 
to be discarded ? 

It is earnestly wished that those among us 
who hesitate to become followers of Christ, who 
are backward to embrace his religion, whose hearts 
are set upon the attainment of a happiness different 
from that which is comprised in the christian 
scheme ; — it is earnestly wished that, in the neglect 



COMING TO CHRIST. 395 

of this, they would seriously consider what their 
prospects can be. The propensities of the carnal 
mind and our worldly affections, do indeed prompt 
us to embrace worldly objects, and to place our 
chief good in the acquisition of wealth, honour, 
power, and the pleasures of sense. But reason 
has been given us as the regulator of our conduct ; 
and can reason approve of this choice ? If you 
" make gold your hope," if to become rich and 
great in the present world be your plan ; should 
you not consider whether these objects be attain- 
able, and whether, when attained, they will answer 
your expectations ? With views and hopes like 
these, most men, perhaps, begin the career of life. 
But of the multitudes who thus set out, how few 
succeed ! Such is the state of things in the pres- 
ent world, and the constitution of human society, 
that it is not possible for a large proportion of its 
members to be distinguished for abounding wealth. 
A vast majority, be their exertions what they may, 
must inevitably miss of such attainments. After 
various schemes and projects, after years spent in 
the hurry and perplexities of business, we daily 
see numbers failing even of mediocrity, and, in 
some instances, sinking into that meanness of con- 
dition which had been always their greatest 
dread. 

In the road of ambition, the hazards are still 
greater than in that of avarice. It is known 
50 



394 COMING TO CHRIST. 

beforehand, that among the numerous candidates 
for honour and power, here and there one only can 
succeed. The disappointed rivals suffer a chagrin 
and mortification, grievous and bitter in proportion 
to the strength of their desires and the height of 
their previous hopes. In some instances, their 
minds become the prey of passions so uneasy and 
tormenting, as to render them, of all men, the 
most wretched. 

If you miss of wealth, you can neither live in 
splendour, nor indulge in expensive pleasures. 
But we will admit that these things may be within 
your reach ; we will suppose you possessed of riches, 
ample as your desires, and sufficient for the ease 
and indulgence of many years. Thus circum- 
stanced, would you be secure of the expected enjoy- 
ment ? Would the gain of the whole world set 
you above the calamities incident to human life ? 
On how many quarters might evil still approach 
you ! Your body would be still liable to pain and 
disease, your character to reproach, and your 
dearest connexions to sickness and death. How 
manifold are the casualties which might break in 
upon your enjoyments and render you miserable ! 
But we will suppose you, for a while, to be borne 
along on a full tide of prosperity, and all things 
around you conspiring to your ease and pleasure. 
Solomon had all this, all that the most worldly, 
ambitious, or sensual could wish ; and after making 



COMING TO CHRIST. 395 

the experiment, reprobated the whole, leaving it 
upon record as a solemn warning to posterity, that 
these things are so far from constituting happiness, 
that they are but " vanity and vexation of spirit." 
Experience teaches that every condition has its 
peculiar inquietudes, troubles, and crosses. Under 
the glare of outward prosperity, secret discontent and 
dissatisfaction are often realized. In the greatest 
abundance of earthly joys, the heart is often sad. The 
mind soon nauseates the pleasures of sense, and can- 
not rest in present enjoyments. It is always look- 
ing forward to something future, wishing to change 
the scene, and hankering after some new, untried 
gratification. Were you to become acquainted 
with the real situation of those who make the 
fairest outside show of happiness, you would find 
it a show, and nothing more. You would find 
them harassed and tossed like the troubled sea, as 
remote from contentment and satisfaction as others. 
If you persist in fancying that it would be other- 
wise with you ; if you still say, Give me the means 
and trust me to make myself happy with them ; — 
we will suppose you in the full possession of them, 
and also of a secret for enjoying them in a manner 
more exquisite than any who have tried them be- 
fore- Yet in the midst of all the pleasures which 
they might procure you, would you not be aware 
of your constant liableness to be forever separated 
from these objects of your happiness ? What was 



396 COMING TO CHRIST* 

the enjoyment of the man, seated, as ancient story 
relates, in the palace of a prince, with all its lux- 
uries about him, but who, at the same time, knew 
that a drawn sword hung over his head, suspended 
by a single hair ? Should we admit the possibility 
of your excluding this gloomy apprehension from 
your thoughts — that you might sink, as some seem 
to do, to such a degree of insensibility, as to eat, 
drink, and be merry, in expectation of " tomorrow's 
being as this day," — would the coming of death be 
the less speedy, certain, or terrible, because thus 
unthought of? Would eternity be the less awful, 
because wholly unprepared for ? Would a few 
months or years of pleasure be a balance for suc- 
ceeding ages of ages of misery ? Would the re- 
membrance of the gaiety and splendour in which 
you once lived on earth, render the blackness of 
darkness less gloomy, and the regions of despair 
less dreadful ? It is in vain for any to flatter 
themselves with the hope of escaping these, if they 
now live without God in the world. If the Maker 
of us, and of the world in which we dwell, holds 
us responsible to him for our conduct, for the use 
which we make of our advantages and opportuni- 
ties, of the talents and goods with which he has 
entrusted us ; if there be a God who judges in the 
earth, exercising a moral government over the 
world, and who, in the world to come, will give to 
every man according to his works ; if you admit 



COMING TO CHRIST. 397 

these fundamental principles of all natural, as well 
as of revealed religion ; you must be convinced 
that unfaithful stewards, that those persons who 
walk in the way of their hearts, and after the sight 
of their eyes, serving divers lusts, habitually unmind- 
ful of God, rioting in his bounties, abusing his 
goodness, despising his grace, and defying his 
justice, can have no hope at the period of their 
being turned out of their stewardship. With con- 
sciences thus loaded with guilt, what must be their 
prospect, when called to render up their account 
at a tribunal where strict, impartial justice will have 
its course ! 

Consider this, ye who forsake Christ, to go in 
pursuit of the world. Such must be the end of 
all those whose portion is in this life. Under the 
assured prospect of such a conclusion, what happi- 
ness can the world afford ? So far as man is a 
mere animal, and on a level with the brute crea- 
tion, it may furnish him, as it does them, with 
the means of animal enjoyment. But as a rational, 
moral being, the offspring of God, and the heir of 
eternity, it must be all husks and ashes to him, 
containing nothing suitable to his nature, or ade- 
quate to his desires. After all its flattering allure- 
ments, it miserably disappoints the expectations of 
those who make it their main scope. I have said 
the more upon this topic, because it is so common 
and natural for us to run into this mistake, because 



398 COMING TO CHRIST. 

such numbers are earnestly looking and assiduous- 
ly seeking to the world for that which the world 
can never yield them. " They spend their money 
for that Avhich is not bread, and their labour for 
that which satisfieth not." 

My hearers, if it have been shown that happi- 
ness cannot be derived from the world, nor from 
the things of the world, where next shall we look ? 
From religion, the wisest and best of men in every 
age have agreed that it must be derived. But if 
you forsake the religion of the Gospel, what other 
religion will you embrace ? After reviewing all 
the different species of religion which have prevail- 
ed in the world, which will you adopt as having 
the greatest probability of truth, being in itself the 
most rational, the most worthy of God, and the 
best adapted to guide your pursuits after happiness ? 
Having turned away from following Christ, whom 
will you follow ? Next to him, the Arabian proph- 
et has perhaps, at this day, the greatest number 
of votaries. Having rejected the Bible, will you 
believe in the Koran ? To get rid of the myste- 
ries of Christianity, will you credit the absurd tales 
of a most lewd and cruel impostor ? Or will you 
make your choice among the systems of ancient or 
modern paganism ? What ideas the mere heathen 
have of God and of his perfections, and how they 
worship him, may be learned from the Prophet's 
description of a man, who, cutting down a tree, 



COMING TO CHRIST. 399 

with part thereof kindleth him a fire and warmeth 
himself ; with part thereof baketh his bread and 
roasteth his meat ; and " with the residue thereof 
maketh him a god, and falleth down unto it, and 
worshippeth it, and prayeth unto it, and saith, 
Deliver me, for thou art my god L" 

Will you betake yourselves to the ancient sages 
and philosophers, those men of renown who once 
flourished at Athens and Rome, for direction in the 
way to happiness ? The wisest of these frankly con- 
fess their ignorance and incapability to afford you the 
light which you are seeking. They acknowledge 
their doubts upon points of the greatest moment. 
Though convinced of the absurdity of the vulgar 
religion, they know not how to frame and introduce 
a better. Their most illumined writings contain a 
strange mixture of wisdom and folly, and abound 
with uncertain conjectures. They are not agreed 
with respect to the nature of true happiness, nor in 
what it consists. Amidst their various and discord- 
ant opinions, by what criterion will you determine 
which is the best, or how will you bring your 
reason to acquiesce and confide in any of them ? 
Leaving these, will you adopt what modern 
Deists tell you is the pure, unadulterated religion 
of nature, and which they extol as preferable to 
any that is, or can be revealed ? Strip the schemes 
of these men of the aids derived from revelation — 
let them restore to Christ, his Prophets, and Apos- 



400 COMING TO CHRIST. 

ties, the light which has been borrowed from them, — 
and their systems will be found no better than those 
of the old philosophers. Having seduced you from 
the harbour of the Gospel, they leave you without 
helm, compass, or rudder, to the winds and waves. 
Will you then, rejecting all former schemes, 
disdaining every guide, from the exuberance of 
your own invention, from the plenitude of your 
own wisdom and knowledge, will you frame a 
religion for yourselves ? Apply then to the sub- 
ject — make the experiment, and see if, after 
turning from the Rock of ages, you can lay another, 
a new foundation, upon which you can venture to 
build for eternity ; upon which you can safely 
depend as a basis that will stand unrnoved when 
the foundations of nature shall be shaken and give 
way. Alas ! vain man, what canst thou do ? It 
is high as heaven ; it is deep as hell ; the measure 
thereof is longer than the earth and broader than 
the sea. Behold, an immensity is around thee, 
and an eternity before thee ! What canst thou 
know, upon what canst thou determine ? Couldst 
thou search into the abyss of the divine counsels ; 
hadst thou lain in the bosom of the Eternal mind, 
and inspected the volume of his decrees ; couldst 
thou survey, in its unlimited extent, that chain of 
events, which, begun in time, runs parallel with 
an endless hereafter ; — couldst thou pretend to 
these things, then perhaps thou mightest conclude 



COMING TO CHRIST. 401 

upon something which would not disappoint thee. 
But who, or what, art thou ? worm of the dust, 
insect of a day, born a being of but yesterday, and 
knowing nothing ! 

Ah ! my friends, " to whom shall we go ?" 
Shall we return to the ancient religion of the Jews, 
to Moses, and the Prophets ? They refer us back 
again to Christ. They all testify of him as the 
only foundation of hope for sinful men, the only 
source of happiness and salvation for a lost world. 
The law was intended as a schoolmaster to fit and 
prepare men for the reception of the Gospel. It 
was the shadow of good things to come. Christ 
and his doctrines are the substance. It was 
through faith in a Messiah to come, that the Old 
Testament saints desired and sought another, a 
better, a heavenly country. Through this faith 
they entered into that rest which remaineth for 
the people of God. This rest, no longer faintly 
apprehended through the smoke and fire of sacrifi- 
ces, clouds of incense, and a multiplicity of shad- 
owy, emblematical institutions, is now explicitly 
and clearly revealed in the Gospel of Christ. His 
are " the words of eternal life." Of this, Peter and 
his fellow- disciples had a full and unwavering 
persuasion, and therefore, in answer to the inter- 
rogatory in the text, said, " Lord, to whom shall 
we go ?" They saw that his character, his 
teaching, and miracles, corresponded with the 
51 



402 COMING TO CHRIST. 

prophecies concerning the Messiah which had 
gone before. Though they did not at present fully 
comprehend the meaning of all his instructions, yet 
they so far understood him, as to be convinced 
that he taught a religion worthy of God, adapted 
to the condition of apostate men, and opening to 
them the most encouraging and glorious prospects 
of futurity. The reasonableness and excellence 
of his doctrines in themselves, and the manifold 
proofs of his divine mission exhibited before their 
eyes, rendered them confident that his were the 
words of eternal life, bringing immortality to light, 
and pointing out to a lost and bewildered world, 
a way of recovery and restoration to true and end- 
less felicity. 

My hearers, the Gospel of Christ, comprising 
all these things, has been transmitted to us, under 
as many circumstances of credibility, as perhaps 
the nature of the thing will admit, or as w r e could 
reasonably expect. By our knowledge of it, we 
become acquainted with " the words of eternal 
life." By believing and obeying it, by living as 
this grace of God, bringing salvation, teaches, we 
shall approve ourselves to be of the number of the 
sincere followers and disciples of Jesus, and with 
them become entitled to his promised blessings. 
How rich, how great, how ineffably glorious are 
his promises ! Through him we shall receive the 
atonement, the propitiation for our sins. Through 



COMING TO CHRIST. 403 

him we shall receive a righteousness justifying us 
before God, and securing our acceptance with him. 
Through him we shall be cleansed from all sinful 
pollutions, and be transformed into a moral resem- 
blance to God. This good work begun in us here, 
will be carried on to perfection hereafter. Though 
while we continue in the present world, we shall 
still be liable to tribulation, yet he assures us that 
in him we shall have peace, a peace which pass- 
eth understanding. He will give us to eat of the 
hidden manna ; he will feed us with the bread of 
life, during our pilgrimage through this wilderness. 
On our departure hence, while passing the dark 
valley and the shadow of death, his rod and staff 
shall comfort us ; while flesh and heart are failing 
us, he will be the strength of our hearts and the 
portion of our souls. At the final judgment, before 
the assembled universe, he will acknowledge our 
relation to him, and welcome us into his Father's 
house, into those mansions which he has prepared 
for our reception — mansions above the reach of 
all evil, forever exempt from the temptations and 
trials of this vale of tears, where we shall behold 
his unclouded glories, and, with an innumerable 
company of angels and all the nations of the re- 
deemed, participate in rivers of pleasure and fulness 
of joy, world without end. This is that " eternal 
life" exhibited in the doctrines, in the words of 
Christ. 



404 COMING TO CHRIST. 

My hearers, will ye, notwithstanding, turn 
from him ? " Will ye also go away ?" What 
can this world, or the god of this world, 
offer you, though he should cause to glitter in 
imagination before you, all its glory and riches, 
sufficient to induce you to give up a system so 
excellent, to relinquish expectations so great, to 
part with prospects so glorious ? Will not your 
hearts reply to every temptation, to every sugges- 
tion of this kind — " Lord, to whom shall we go ? 
thou hast the words of eternal life." 

No, blessed Jesus, we will not leave thee. 
Though the doctrine of the cross be to some a 
stumblingblock, and to others foolishness, yet to 
us it is the power of God and the wisdom of God. 
Blessed Jesus, thou art the Captain of our salva- 
tion, and by thy grace we will follow thee till we 
overcome, and sit down with thee on thy throne, 
even as thou also hast overcome and sat down with 
thy Father on his throne. 



SERMON XXIII. 



THANKSGIVING SERMON. 



GENESIS i. 31. 

And God saiv every thing that he had made, and, 
behold, it was very good. 

In these words we have the review which the 
Almighty Creator took of his new made world, the 
reflection of the Eternal Mind upon the copies of its 
own wisdom and the products of its own power. 
The several component parts of this great work as 
they were successively produced, were each pro- 
nounced good ; but upon the finishing of the whole, 
the superlative style is adopted. It is pronounced 
very good, or perfect, without any blemish or defect 
which might bring into suspicion either the wisdom 
or the goodness of its Creator. To his omniscient 
eye it appeared, not only supremely beautiful, but 

* This sermon was delivered on Thanksgiving day, December 5, 1822 — 
ihe last time that the Author ever appeared in the pulpit. He was attack- 
ed the following night by the illness which in six days terminated his life. 



406 THANKSGIVING SERMON. 

perfectly conformable to the plan concerted in his 
eternal counsels, and completely adapted to answer 
his purpose in its formation. 

As we ourselves were not present, and mingled 
not in the circle of the sons of God who shouted 
for joy at the laying of its foundations, — it is only 
through faith in the writings of Moses that we un- 
derstand " how the world was made." Looking 
through this glass, we see the formation of its sev- 
eral elements ; the light shining forth from the 
midst of primeval darkness ; the firmament expand- 
ed ; the stagnant abyss of chaotic waters collected 
into seas, lakes, and rivers ; the dry land appear- 
ing ; the mountains rising ; the plains extending ; 
the vallies sinking ; and the surface of all, clothed 
with the endless variety of vegetation. We also 
see the heavens garnished, and all their radiant 
luminaries lighted up, — the earth, the air, and the 
waters replenished with those numerous species of 
animals, which, according to the adaptation of 
their different natures, inhabit each their respective 
elements. 

When creation is thus far advanced, when the 
house is thus built and furnished, amply stored with 
whatever can be of use to such a tenant ; man, 
the only rational organ of the world, the head and 
representative of the other creatures, to whose 
dominion they are subjected, and who alone is re- 
sponsible to the great Creator for his tribute of 



THANKSGIVING SERMON. 407 

praise from the whole — man, with a capacity to 
contemplate, acknowledge, and adore the infinite 
power, the unsearchable wisdom, and inexhaustible 
goodness so illustriously displayed in the new form- 
ed world — man is then produced in the image of 
his Maker, receives his benediction, and, by his 
express grant, is put in possession of all these his 
works, as their overseer and the steward of the 
great Proprietor. Nearly six thousand years have 
elapsed since the date of this first lease to our 
great ancestor, and during the many revolving ages 
through this whole space, the world has been con- 
tinued in the possession of his family. By how 
many successive generations of men from Adam to 
Moses, from Moses to David, from David to the 
times of the Messiah, and from the times of the 
Messiah down to this day, has the world been pos- 
sessed, enjoyed, and, alas ! too often abused ! Its 
present possessors, however, receive it fresh and 
fair from the hands of its Maker, without any 
visible symptoms of impair or decay. Besides 
producing, nourishing, and sustaining through 
unbroken succession all the tribes of animals and 
all the swarms of insects which were at first created, 
it has been the seat of all those great nations and 
mighty empires, which, through every era of past 
duration, have been alternately rising and falling, 
flourishing and spreading themselves on the earth, 
and then dwindling away. On this great stage 



408 THANKSGIVING SERMON. 

have been exhibited all the vicissitudes in human 
affairs, those scenes, transactions, and events, re- 
corded in ancient as well as in modern history — 
whatever wise men and philosophers have discover- 
ed, poets celebrated, orators recommended, states- 
men counselled, or heroes achieved. Here they 
have all acted their respective parts. Here the 
righteous have sought for glory and immortality ; 
and here the wicked have treasured up wrath 
against the day of wrath. In this vast inn have 
lodged all those millions of travellers and pilgrims, 
whose exit hence, through every successive age, 
has increased the population of the realms of light 
and joy above, or the regions of darkness and sor- 
row below. 

But though the world be in itself so old, though 
it has passed through the hands of so many differ- 
ent owners already — has been possessed by more 
than one hundred or two hundred generations of 
men in succession ; yet to us, its present tenants, it 
is as new, and its workmanship as bright, as it was 
to its first possessors. Still it bears, equally vivid 
as at its first formation, the impressions of divine 
power, wisdom, and goodness. It still exhibits 
the eternal power and godhead of its Maker, and 
witnesses his overflowing goodness to his crea- 
tures. 

On a day professedly set apart to thank and praise 
him for this his goodness, it undoubtedly becomes 



THANKSGIVING SERMON. 409 

us, my hearers, fixedly to contemplate the fair in^- 
heritance which he has given us. " The heaven, 
even the heavens," says the Psalmist, " are the 
Lord's ; but the earth hath he given to the child- 
ren of men." This earth then with all its contents 
and appendages, which in the text is pronounced 
" very good," is the donation which we have received 
from him. In the arrangement of our thoughts 
upon the subject, the medium by which it is pre- 
sented to our view claims our first grateful notice. 
In Jhe beginning of the creation, light was the 
first production. " God said, Let there be light ; and 
there was light." The light which was thus the 
work of the first day, was afterward, on the fourth 
day of the creation, collected into that immense 
body of light and heat, which we call the sun. 
This glorious luminary in the heavens, so often 
mistaken by the heathen nations for God himself, 
was ordained to rule the day. By virtue of this 
decree the day-spring is made to know his place ; 
the sun, rising at his appointed hour, showeth him- 
self "as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, 
and rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race. His 
going forth is from the end of the heaven, and his 
circuit unto the ends of it." His beams are thrown 
in a rich profusion over the whole face of the earth, 
and all objects susceptible of their influence, are 
cheered, and gilded, by their light and heat. How 
manifold, and unspeakably great, are the benefits 
52 



410 THANKSGIVING SERMON. 

which they produce ! Without them, to what 
purpose would be the organs of sight in animals, 
and all those preparations in nature which depend 
upon the kind influences of the heavens ? This 
earth would be uninhabitable, — a cold , barren, opaque 
mass of matter, buried in everlasting darkness. 
Light is not only pleasant to the eye, but necessary 
to the life and subsistence of the whole animal and 
vegetative creation. It is not only necessary to the 
carrying on all the affairs of the world, but to the 
pleasure which we enjoy in the view and contem- 
plation of all the innumerable objects around us. 
Of all our senses, vision is the greatest inlet of 
pleasure. Through this avenue an uninterrupted 
stream of delight pours in upon the thinking mind. 
How exquisite is our enjoyment when in the cheer- 
ful light of day we behold this ample creation, all 
its grand and entertaining objects, their beauty, 
splendour, and usefulness ! In the view of these 
created glories, the mind is naturally led to contem- 
plate, and, in a measure, to enjoy the uncreated 
glories of their great Author. Thus vision, to 
which light is essential, originates pleasures of 
various kinds, sensitive, intellectual, and even 
spiritual. From this source indeed many of our 
most refined and sublime enjoyments are derived. 
As all the different parts of the creation are 
reciprocally subservient to each other, and conspire 
in their respective natures and places to the general 



THANKSGIVING SERMON. 411 

beauty and usefulness of the whole ; these benefi- 
cial effects of light are greatly facilitated and in- 
creased by another equally important and necessary 
appendage of this earth. The whole globe is 
wrapped in, and surrounded by a fluid nearly as 
subtile and active as light itself, and perhaps more 
penetrating. Its formation immediately succeeded 
that of light, constituted the work performed on 
the second day of the creation, and, in the context, 
is called " firmament" or heaven. But as the literal 
meaning of this word in the original Hebrew is 
expansion, and as the noun is derived from a 
verb importing "to stretch forth, distend, or expand 
in every direction," — it obviously expresses the na- 
ture of the air or atmosphere, which, being peculiar- 
ly elastic, is of course expansive and compressible. 
It is certain that the whole space which we be- 
hold and commonly call " heaven," is nothing but air. 
Its diffusion is supposed to extend, in a degree, to 
the limits of the planetary system ; extremely fine 
and rare no doubt at remote distances, but more 
dense and gross in proportion to its proximity to 
the earth — so gross indeed, as to be capable of 
supporting all those clouds and vapours, which are 
the grand reservoirs from which the earth is con- 
tinually watered, refreshed, and rendered fruitful. 
This firmament which God has spread over us as 
the pavement of his feet, forms the breath of our 
nostrils, swells the lungs, and is the grand instru- 



412 THANKSGIVING SERMON. 

ment of respiration and life to all the inhabitants 
of the earth. Nay, it is scarcely less necessary to 
whatever composes the vegetative creation, to the 
life and growth of all trees, plants, and herbs. It 
is found that when any of these are deprived of 
the air, they soon lose their glory and verdure, 
become weak and sickly, and appear in a languish- 
ing and dying state. 

Besides furnishing breath and life to whatever 
lives, and growth to whatever grows, this useful 
element gives buoyancy and flight to all the feath- 
ered tribes ; and even to the various species of the 
finny race supplies the power of playing up and 
down, of ascending and descending at pleasure in 
the watery depths. The influence of the air is 
also blended with all those great and useful opera- 
tions in nature by which the world is preserved in 
an habitable state. By reflecting and refracting 
the rays of light, the beams of the sun are more 
generally diffused and so tempered as to be easy 
and agreeable to the eye. By this means, too, the 
day is protracted after the sun is actually set at 
night, and is anticipated again in the morning while 
he is yet many degrees below the horizon. Thus 
is formed that agreeable space, recurring twice a 
day, called the twilight. Nor may we pass un- 
noticed the unspeakable usefulness of the air as a 
medium for the conveyance of sound. Without 
the former, the latter could not exist. Where then 



THANKSGIVING SERMON. 413 

would be the melody of the creation, all the charms 
of music, or the pleasures of social converse ? 
No articulate language could be formed, the organs 
of speech in men would be to no purpose, the ears 
of all animals would be useless. Profound and 
universal silence would reign throughout the world. 
Can we think of our senses of seeing, and hearing, 
and of the adaptation of light to the one, and of 
air to the other ; and not admire the contrivance, 
the wisdom, and goodness of Him who has thus 
made us and the air in which we breathe, hear, 
and speak ; and the light by which we see our- 
selves and all his other works around us ? 

The great usefulness of the air would soon be 
lost, were its whole mass, with all those vapours 
with which its lower regions are constantly loaded, 
perpetually at rest. A stagnant atmosphere would 
soon become putrid, unfit for respiration, and the 
bane rather than the life of the inhabitants of the 
world. Should we not then admire the provision 
made in the system of nature for guarding against 
this noxious state of the air, and for preserving its 
salubrity by continual ventilations by gales and 
tempests, by the explosion of electrical vapours, and 
the falling of rain, hail, and snow ? If these agita- 
tions of the air occasionally become boisterous and 
formidable, yet they are exceedingly useful in car- 
rying off and dissipating poisonous exhalations, and 
in cooling and purifying the element which is the 
immediate instrument of life. 



414 THANKSGIVING SERMON, 

Notwithstanding the apparent levity and expan- 
sive nature of the atmosphere, it feels the influence 
of that power which we call attraction or gravity, 
so far as is necessary for retaining it with a due 
degree of density in its place and station around 
the globe. This power, inexplicable in its cause, 
is inherent in all the elements of which the world 
is composed, and in the bodies of all those creatures 
by which it is inhabited. It consists in the ten- 
dency which all material things have to a common 
centre. The centre of the earth is the point to 
which its whole mass, with all its appendages, tends. 
This tendency is what is called the weight of 
bodies. It is greater or less in proportion to their 
distance from the centre of attraction. The only 
cause which we can assign for gravity is the im- 
mediate power of God impressed as a law upon all 
the atoms of matter at their first creation, or un- 
remittingly exerted in their continued preservation. 
The beneficial effects resulting from this law of 
gravity are not less obvious and striking than those 
of any other of the most useful laws of nature. 
It is the cement or chain which holds together the 
different parts of which the system of the world is 
composed ; and retains them in their respective 
places and stations, constantly equipoised within 
the bounds prescribed to them at their first forma- 
tion. Through the invincible strength of this chain, 
no part of the earth is shattered, disjointed, fritter- 



THANKSGIVING SERMON. 415 

ed off, or dissipated in the circumambient space ; 
notwithstanding its perpetual movements, its daily 
rotation upon its own axis with a rapidity which 
carries its surface through the space of a thousand 
miles every hour, giving us the agreeable vicissi- 
tudes of day and night ; and its annual circumvo- 
lution round the sun, in which it travels over the 
immense spaces of the ecliptic, delighting us with 
all the variety of the seasons. Amidst the incon- 
ceivable as well as unremitting rapidity of these 
different motions, gravity preserves, undisturbed 
through the successive ages of the world, the unity, 
order, and harmony of all its parts. Besides these, 
its great and general uses, its particular and occa- 
sional advantages to the inhabitants of the earth 
are more than can be numbered. 

From the brief survey already taken of some 
of the outworks and appendages of this lower crea- 
tion in which there is nothing wanting, nothing 
redundant, nothing ill made or ill adjusted, — are 
we not, my brethren, overpowered and dazzled 
with the splendour of those evidences which it ex- 
hibits of the being and perfections of its Maker ? 
Are not those men lost alike to reason, and to all 
moral feelings, who are capable of remaining uncon- 
vinced by such evidence, and unimpressed by such 
marks of wisdom, and goodness ? 

We no sooner look at the out-buildings, the 
gardens, the avenues, and various accommodations 



416 THANKSGIVING SERMON. 

surrounding a stately palace, than we instantly 
imagine what must be the architecture, magnifi- 
cence, and convenience of its interior apartments. 
In the fabrick of the world, the latter are in pro- 
portion to what has been already remarked on the 
excellence and perfection of the former. The 
magnitude of the structure strikes us with aston- 
ishment. How are our minds overwhelmed when 
we reflect on the power which at first formed, and 
continues to wield, and to manage, with more facility 
than we play with a little ivory ball, a body of so 
stupendous a bulk as this terraqueous globe ! The 
great and signal advantages of its spherical form, 
and of its situation with respect to the other planets 
in the solar system, securing to it a due proportion 
of light and heat, are also among the proofs of the 
perfect wisdom and goodness of its Creator. Nor 
is the display of these perfections less illustrious in 
the admirable distribution of the earth's surface 
into waters and dry land ; — the former into vast 
oceans, and smaller seas, lakes, fountains, and riv- 
ers ; — the latter into continents and islands, moun-. 
tains and vales, spacious plains, and hilly countries. 
If to an ignorant or inconsiderate observer, some 
of these divisions seem like a chance-medley, the 
casual strokes from nature's unguided hand, or 
chasms with rude heaps of confusion — the effects 
of some great convulsion and mighty ruin ; yet 
upon a closer inspection and more extended survey, 



THANKSGIVING SERMON. 417 

wise and beneficent design may be every where 
traced over the face of the world, bespeaking the 
line and compass of the unerring Architect, pro- 
portioning and balancing the various parts of the 
whole. Thus the earth and the waters are so 
divided as to form an equipoise to each other on all 
sides of the globe. To the Northern, is opposed 
the Southern ocean ; to the Atlantic on the east, 
the Pacific on the west. The great continents of 
Europe, Asia, and Africa in the Eastern hemisphere, 
are balanced by the long extended regions of North 
and South America, in the Western half of the 
world. In the general distribution of the waters 
among and around these spacious tracts of dry 
land, provision is made for the continual and uni- 
versal ascent of those vapours which afterwards 
fall in dew and rain upon the earth. The process 
of this operation is favoured by ridges of lofty 
mountains towering in each of the great divisions of 
the earth above the clouds, and serving as alembics 
for the collection and condensation of the vapours. 
In those mountains also are for the most part the 
springs and sources of those streams of running 
water which, in their progress towards the ocean, 
become mighty rivers, winding in various channels 
through every continent, fertilizing the neighbour- 
ing banks, facilitating the commercial and social 
intercourse of human beings, and affording a pas- 
53 



418 



THANKSGIVING SERMON. 



sage for the inhabitants of the sea to come up in 
shoals to the doors of men. 

We have now taken a brief survey of some of 
the great component parts of this lower creation, 
and found in each of them striking illustrations of 
the assertion in the text, that every thing which 
God has made, is very good. In them we have 
traced displays of goodness, as well as of wisdom 
and power, in all respects worthy of the supreme 
and all-perfect Being, the great Father of all exist- 
ence and life. With these manifestations of his 
glorious attributes before our eyes, must we not 
feel ourselves constrained, not only to acknowledge 
and adore him, but to love, reverence, and obey 
him ? 

Having contrived and finished, as an habitation 
for men, this earth, he did not cast it by as a ne- 
glected work. No, not even after they had proved 
themselves unworthy of it. He continued, and he 
still continues, to uphold and superintend both it 
and them. On this transitory abode the many gen- 
erations of our forefathers have experienced his care, 
and enjoyed his goodness. We ourselves, my hear- 
ers, are now, in our turn, called into existence. 
Our lot is fallen in a pleasant place, and we have 
a goodly heritage. In an age abounding with re- 
markable incidents and the most striking vicissi- 
tudes, we have found ourselves placed on an eminent 
and distinguished part of the great theatre, not 



THANKSGIVING SERMON. 419 

only as the spectators of his works both of creation 
and providence, but as the receivers of all the variety 
of his bounty. From day to day he renews upon 
us the tokens of his goodness, causes the morning 
and evening to rejoice over our heads, and each 
returning season to present us its richest blessings. 
The year is again crowned with his goodness. 

If we have reason to discern the force of evi- 
dence, and hearts to feel the obligations of good- 
ness, shall we not resolve to live henceforward in 
God's world as in an august temple, appropriated 
to his service and always inhabited by his presence ? 
Awed by his infinite majesty, will it not be our 
care, in our whole deportment, both towards him 
and towards one another, to render ourselves ap- 
proved in his sight ? — that our future lives may be a 
perpetual hymn of praise, and that ourselves, soul 
and body, may become living sacrifices, holy and 
acceptable to him, through Jesus Christ. Amen. 



SERMON XXIV. 



SAFETY OP THE RIGHTEOUS. 



PROVERBS xii. 23. 

In the way of righteousness is life; and in the path- 
way thereof there is no death. 

The "way of righteousness" is, unquestionably, 
the way of rendering unto all beings with whom 
we have any connexion what is respectively their 
clue — unto God, the things which are his ; unto our 
fellow-men in all their several relations, the things 
due to them ; and upon all occasions, in our whole 
conduct, the governing ourselves by the rules of 
right reason and the precepts of revelation. In 
this way the text affirms, " there is life, and no 
death." In the language of Scripture, the terms 
life and death import, the , one, safety, prosper- 
ity, and happiness, the other, danger, evil, and 
misery. The meaning of the text therefore is, 
that they who enter and persevere in the way of 

* It may not be uninteresting to the reader to leam } that the latter half 
of this sermon was Dr. Osgood's last composition. 



SAFETY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 421 

rectitude, not only escape the miseries and dangers 
which sooner or later overtake the workers of in- 
iquity, but secure to themselves all those blessings 
and enjoyments, which are essential to the happiness 
of rational, moral beings. This praise is given to a 
virtuous, religious course of life, for the purpose of 
recommending it to the choice of all, and especially 
of young people, who are about setting out in the 
world, and commencing that career which must end 
in the extremes either of life or death forever. 

To minds unbiassed by corrupt passions and 
prejudices, the way of righteousness is of all others 
the most natural and easy of discovery. They 
have only to open their eyes, and they see it lying 
straight before them. " God has shewed thee, O 
man, what is good, and what he requires of thee," 
in the dictates of thine own reason and conscience, 
and in the plain precepts of his holy word, which 
he who runs may read. The way before him is 
marked as with a sunbeam. If it be narrow, still 
it is straight, and free from all those turnings and 
windings backward and forward, which character- 
ize the ways of sin. " Let thine eyes look right 
on, and thine eyelids straight before thee. Turn not 
to the right hand, nor to the left." So obvious is the 
way of righteousness to those disposed to follow it, 
that they rarely need any other guide than their 
own uprightness. This, of itself, prompts them 
to whatsoever things arc true, honest, just, pure, 



422 SAFETY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 

and virtuous. " The righteousness of the perfect 
shall direct their way." Or if, on any emergency, 
they should be at a loss what course to pursue, they 
know where and to whom to apply for direction. 
With the Psalmist they may pray, " Shew me thy 
ways, O Lord ; teach me thy paths ; lead me in 
the way that is everlasting. O let me not wander 
from thy commandments." As the prayer of the 
upright is God's delight, it will assuredly be heard 
by him, especially when supplicating for that wis- 
dom which is from above. To them who in sin- 
cerity ask this of God, he giveth liberally. In 
every case of doubt and difficulty they " shall hear 
a voice behind them, saying, This is the way, walk 
ye in it." In this way of holiness, the way-faring 
men, though fools, or in themselves ever so simple, 
yet shall not err on any point, or on any occasion, 
essential to their ultimate safety and happiness. 
To as many as have a heart to work righteous- 
ness, and desire to know the will of God that they 
may do it, all needful light and direction are prom- 
ised. They shall not walk in darkness. At no 
time during the course of their pilgrimage, will the 
divine precepts be hidden from them so as to suffer 
them to fall into any fatal mistake. Their path 
will be as the rising light, shining more and more 
unto the perfect day. So direct, plain, and lumin- 
ous is the way of righteousness. 



SAFETY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 423 

But when the text asserts that, in this course, 
life is found and no death ; are we to infer that 
the travellers are exempt from all the misfortunes 
and sorrows of the world, and enjoy uninterrupted 
success and prosperity ? This contradicts, not 
only fact and experience, but the explicit assertion 
of the same inspired writer, who elsewhere informs 
us that, with respect to worldly objects and concerns, 
" all things come alike to all," time and chance 
happening to every one without any respect to 
character, — that " there is one event to the righteous 
and to the wicked," — that neither love nor hatred 
can be known by the worldly incidents befalling 
them, or the worldly circumstances in which they 
are respectively placed. While they live, both lie 
open to the same vicissitudes of joy and sorrow ; 
and, at death, both pass the same gloomy vale. 
" Wise men die, as well as the fool and the brutish 
person." In what sense then is it asserted in the 
text, that " in the way of righteousness, there is 
no death ?" The meaning undoubtedly is, no real 
absolute evil or misery, the temporary trials and 
sufferings of the righteous being intended as mercies 
in the end, as a necessary discipline for their ulti- 
mate good, working out for them a far more, an 
exceeding, eternal weight of glory. Even death 
itself proves a gain to them, and more to be desired 
than was the day of their birth. This being the 
result to good men of all those trials and events which 



424 SAFETY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 

are grievous to flesh and blood, they are, on this 
account, denied to be evil. On the contrary, they 
are upon reflection what ought to be desired. The 
good man himself in the midst of his sharpest suffer- 
ings, could he see to the end, and have a clear 
view of their happy consequences, would not wish 
to be exempted from them. In this sense nothing 
deserving the name of death ever occurs in the way 
of righteousness ; while on the other part, comforts 
and joys are experienced truly worthy to be called 
life. 

In the hearts of all the righteous, the love of 
God has been shed abroad. He is the object of 
their chief desire. To him they feel themselves 
supremely attached. It is the language of their 
hearts, " Whom have we in heaven but thee ? and 
there is none on earth that we desire in comparison 
with thee. Thou art our portion, O Lord, our 
shield, and exceeding great reward. We esteem 
thy favour to be life, and thy loving kindness better 
than temporal life." To all who entertain these 
sentiments of God and feel these affections towards 
him, he is a friend and father. Having thus ac- 
quainted themselves with him, they have peace 
with him and peace in their own bosoms, a peace 
which passes understanding. This love to God is 
accompanied with love to men, with complacency 
in the saints, and with good will towards all with- 
out exception. This love to our brethren is in- 



SAFETY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 425 

separable from the love of God. Both reign to- 
gether in every heart where either of them is im- 
planted. The Scripture pronounces that man a 
liar, who professes love to God while he indulges 
in hatred against his brother. 

Let us now consider what must be the happi- 
ness of the.* man who is united to God, to the saints, 
to all holy beings, and to the general good of the 
universe by the spirit of love, — whose heart and life 
are under the sway of this divine principle. No 
iniquity has the dominion over him ; no lust or 
irregular passion gains the ascendancy in his heart, 
or the control of his will and affections. He is 
conscious of no ill intentions, tortured by no re- 
morse, haunted by no fear. A conscience void of 
offence both towards God and man, renders his 
mind serene and tranquil. His bosom is the seat 
of order, harmony, and peace, undisturbed and un- 
ruffled by any of those agitations which render the 
inward feelings of the wicked like the troubled sea. 
If he thinks of God, all his meditations upon him 
are accompanied with admiration, gratitude, and 
praise. He sees and acknowledges the divine per- 
fections in his own formation and in that of the 
universe around him. In all his comforts and 
enjoyments, his advantages and privileges, he real- 
izes and tastes the divine goodness. He enjoys the 
Creator in his creatures. By these streams his 
heart is led to exult in the Fountain. He feels a 
54 



426 SAFETY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 

nearness to God, and says with the Psalmist, " I 
am continually with th5e — all my ways are before 
thee." Of course, he is habitually disposed to set 
the Lord always before him, and to remember that 
this infinite Being is the constant inspector and 
judge of all his thoughts, words, and actions. Thus 
he walks with God, and has a steady aim to secure 
his favor by unceasing efforts to be like him, to 
imitate his holiness and goodness, his mercy, 
truth, and faithfulness. 

As all the divine perfections are comprised in 
love, and as the children of men are the objects 
here on earth, in whose creation, preservation, and 
redemption, the love of God is principally display- 
ed, — all the sincere followers of God become fellow- 
workers with him for the general good of mankind. 
They cordially concur with his plans of benevolence, 
and, so far as they are able, assist in carrying them 
into effect. They come forward as auxiliaries for 
enlightening, reforming, and ultimately saving the 
lost race of men. Next to the love of God, this 
object is nearest and dearest to the heart of every 
righteous and good man. His ardour to promote 
it, not only prevents his being overcome of evil, 
but leads him to overcome evil with good, to ren- 
der good for evil, blessing for cursing, and his 
prayers to God for those who despitefully use, 
abuse, and persecute him. When he looks abroad 
upon his fellow-men at large, though he cannot but 



SAFETY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 427 

apprehend that many of them are exceedingly 
depraved, vile, and even malignant ; yet, among 
them all, there is not one whose eternal salvation 
he would not rejoice to promote by almost any 
series of personal privations, mortifications, and 
self-denial. Such are his sentiments and feelings, 
respecting both God and his fellow-men. In acting 
righteously, he acts like God, is a follower of him, 
and unites with his views as they are manifested 
in the order of his creation, in the dispensations of 
his providence, and in the discoveries of his word. 
Will it be questioned whether the man who be- 
gins and perseveres in such a course, lives in the 
best sense and to the most worthy and desirable 
ends ? 

But whatever estimate may be put upon his 
present enjoyments, who would not wish to share 
in his future hopes and prospects ? The wages of 
sin are death, but the effect of righteousness is 
quietness and assurance forever. If we admit 
the moral character of the Deity, if we believe him 
to be of purer eyes than to behold evil, or to suffer 
it to dwell with him, we must assuredly infer that 
all who work righteousness will meet his approbation. 
Various as are the opinions entertained concerning 
the procuring grounds of pardon, the gospel method 
of justification, and the terms of reconciliation and 
acceptance with God, it is, I believe, universally 
conceded, that no truly righteous and good man 



428 SAFETY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 

will be finally rejected and excluded from heaven* 
His admission is certain, whoever else may come 
short — though the door should be shut against 
some who, while here on earth, had been eminent 
and distinguished for their privileges, their learning, 
their gifts, their miraculous powers, their ecclesias- 
tical dignities, having been occasionally, in the 
church militant, triple-crowned pontiffs, mitred 
bishops, and canonized saints. 

As the future wellbeing of the righteous is thus 
independent of all the nice controversies concern- 
ing modes of faith and forms of worship ; no more 
is it affected by that diversity of opinion which 
men hold concerning the punishment of futurity, 
and the execution of the threatenings in Scripture 
against the wicked. These threatenings apply not 
to any righteous person, in what sense soever they 
may be interpreted. Some have the boldness to 
deny that there will be any punishment after this 
life. They affect to believe and teach that even 
the men who die in their sins, with all their im- 
perfections on their heads, will, by the passage of 
death, effectually escape their penal consequences, 
and to their unspeakable joy find on the other side 
of the grave a general amnesty in their favour. 
In modern times, among the many rare discoveries 
and boasted improvements in theological knowl- 
edge which mark the present era, this opinion sur- 
prisingly prevails, and is become a doctrine of all 
others the most popular. 



SAFETY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 429 

The advocates of a second opinion contend that 
the existence of the wicked will be extinguished 
by death, or, if after death their spirits should survive, 
and for a while retain their consciousness during 
an interval of suffering, that those sufferings will at 
length terminate in annihilation, in a reduction to 
their original nothing, in the being as though they 
had never been, 



-" lost 



In the wide womb of uncreated night, 
Devoid of sense and motion j" 

and that this is what is meant by the " second death" 
and " everlasting punishment." Others, again, tell us 
that the punishments of the future world will be sim- 
ilar to those of the present, all disciplinary, inflicted 
for the ultimate good of the sufferers, to bring them 
to repentance and reformation, and that this soon- 
er or later will be the happy result, conducting at 
last all the wretched victims of vice, over what 
has been deemed an impassable gulf, to the realms 
of light, where they will share with Lazarus in the 
comforts of Abraham's bosom. There is yet a 
fourth opinion, which is thus literally and explicitly 
announced in Scripture : " These," meaning the 
wicked, " shall go away into everlasting punish- 
ment, prepared for the devil and his angels," hav- 
ing their portion with those for whom is reserved 
the blackness of darkness forever, whose worm nev- 



430 SAFETY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 

er dies, whose lire is never quenched, and the 
smoke of whose torment ascendeth forever and ever. 

However this language of Scripture may be 
construed — whichever of the above meanings may 
be given to it, must it not occasion some alarm to 
the irreligious and ungodly ? Speculate as they 
may upon these topics, can they feel themselves 
quite at 'ease and secure with respect to what may 
await them hereafter ? 

On the other part, not the threatenings of 
Scripture, but its promises, belong exclusively to 
the righteous. These are what they are to inherit, 
the treasure laid up for them in heaven, and on 
which they may reckon as their portion. To them 
it shall be said, " Come, ye blessed of my Father, 
inherit the kingdom prepared for you before the 
foundation of the world. ' ' At the winding up of the 
present scheme of things, " these shall enter into 
life eternal." My hearers, is this your character ? 
Have you entered, and are you established in the 
way of righteousness ? In this case you are safe, — 
safe from all the menaces of God's word, so safe as 
to have no cause for fear. At the approach of the 
king of terrors, you need not tremble. With res- 
pect to you, he is disarmed of his sting. With the 
Psalmist you may say with confidence, " Though I 
walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I 
will fear no evil." So far from being an evil, it 
will prove a refreshing, desirable rest, — a rest from 



SAFETY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 431 

all the labours, pains, and trials of the present world. 
Nay, it will be found a transition to the world of 
glory, into the favourable presence of God and of 
the Mediator, to the spirits of just men made per- 
fect, the general assembly and church of the first- 
born, and to an innumerable company of angels, — 
to participate with them in that fulness of joy and 
in those rivers of pleasure which flow forever at 
the right hand of the Most High. Through the 
mercy and grace of God, may we all, by our own 
experience in the way of righteousness, learn that 
it is life, and that in its pathway there is no 
death ! 



EXPOSITIONS 



55 



JEPHTHAH S VOW. 



JUDGES XL 



This part of Jephthah's history is involved in 
an obscurity which seems to require elucidation. 
" Jephthah," says the historian, " vowed a vow 
unto the Lord, and said, If thou shalt without fail 
deliver the children of Ammon into mine hands, 
then it shall be, that whatsoever cometh forth of 
the doors of my house to meet me, when I return 
in peace from the children of Ammon, shall surely 
be the Lord's, and I will offer it up for a burnt- 
offering." In the event, he was met by his own 
daughter, leading forth a choir of maidens, with 
timbrels and dances, celebrating his late victory. 
As she was his only child, besides whom " he had 
neither son nor daughter," the sight of her, and 
the knowledge that she had now become the object 
of his vow, threw him into such an agony of dis- 
tress, that he instantly rent his clothes in token 
of his deep affliction. His daughter, however, 
upon learning the cause of his trouble, at once 
consented that the vow should be performed, and 
declared her willingness to be thus sacrificed, since 



436 jephthah's vow. 

it was the price of so much glory to her father, 
and of so great a deliverance to her country. She 
only requested that she might be allowed with 
her young companions to wander up and down for 
two months upon the mountains of Israel, to lament 
her virginity. This being granted, she returned 
at the end of the time appointed, and " her father 
did with her according to his vow ;" that is, ac- 
cording to Josephus, and many other interpreters, 
both Jewish and Christian, sacrificed her a flam- 
ing victim upon the altar. In favour of this opin- 
ion, they urge it to be the most natural and obvious 
construction that can be put upon the words of the 
historian. They pretend not to justify the deed, 
but suppose that Jephthah's mind, during the late 
declensions in Israel, or while he had dwelt in the 
land of Tob, had become tainted with pagan ideas, 
and that under such impressions he had made his 
vow, having in his thoughts at the very time a 
human sacrifice, as no other creature could be 
supposed to " come out of the doors of his house 
to meet him." Dr. Jennings, in his Jewish Anti- 
quities, thinks it probable that Homer, on some 
tradition of this sacrifice, grounded his fable of 
Agamemnon's sacrificing his daughter Iphigenia. 
" Indeed," he adds, " the name Iphigenia seems to 
be a corruption of Jephthigenia, the daughter of 
Jephthah." 






jephthah's vow. 437 

Lord Clarendon, however, shocked at the idea 
of a real sacrifice, in a spirit as amiable for its 
humanity, as exemplary for its piety, says, " Me- 
thinks it is not reasonable to believe, what so 
many learned men will not doubt of, that Jephthah 
did literally sacrifice his daughter. I should 
rather hope that we do not yet understand the 
meaning of the vow, than that a vow unlawfully 
and unnaturally made, the like whereof is not in 
Scripture, should be as unlawfully performed. It 
seems in the very intention of the vow, that it 
must be some reasonable creature that was to be 
offered, for it could not else ' come forth to meet 
him ;' and how such a sacrifice came to be law- 
ful, cannot easily be discerned. The high-priest 
himself could not offer what he pleased for sacri- 
fice, if it were not of that kind which God had 
appointed. If Jephthah had met a dog or a pig y 
he could not have sacrificed it ; and he ought as 
much to have ' rent his clothes,' if any other 
man's daughter had met him, and not his own ; 
nor is it probable that any other father would have 
permitted him to do what he might lawfully resist. 
If the performance of the vow was so obligatory, 
it was when the Lord had delivered the Ammon- 
ites into his hand. How came he to have the 
power to dispense with his vow for * two months, 5 
and why could he not have done it for two, or 
twenty years ? Whatsoever is declared to be done 



438 jephthah's vow. 

by the Scripture, which is the word of God, I am 
bound to believe ; but that this passage is faithful- 
ly translated, when it contradicts the law of God 
and nature, and the like whereof was never done, 
I hope may be innocently doubted." 

These doubts of his Lordship are greatly 
strengthened, when we reflect that even the heath- 
en were not accustomed to have recourse to human 
victims, but in times of extreme calamity or dan- 
ger, to avert the fury of their offended deities. I 
recollect no instance of them in history after vic- 
tory, or as a thank- offering for any other blessing 
received. Shall we then attribute to Jephthah, 
whose character in all other respects is unblem- 
ished, an action more horrid, considered in all its 
circumstances, than was ever committed by the 
most ignorant and superstitious pagan ? If he had 
been thus stained with the blood of his only child, 
is it conceivable that his name would have been 
enrolled in the New Testament, among the illus- 
trious examples of faith and piety ? Might we 
not rather have expected that he would have been 
stigmatized and branded as one of the monsters in 
human shape ? Yet we find not the least censure 
passed upon him through the whole Scripture. 
In his negotiations with the king of the Ammon- 
ites,* we have already observed his justice and 

* As the former part of this chapter comprises a portion of Jewish 
history, uninteresting to the general reader, the remarks upon it have 
been omitted. 



jephthah's vow. 439 

humanity, soundness of mind, strength of under- 
standing and of argumentation, and accurate ac- 
quaintance with the laws and records of his nation. 
He could not therefore have been that weak, 
ignorant, and ferociously superstitious character, 
which the supposed sacrifice represents him. 

The historian having stated that the Spirit of 
the Lord came upon Jephthah, goes on in the 
very next verse to relate his vow. This connex- 
ion might lead us to suppose, that in making his 
vow, he was under the influence of the Holy Spirit. 
In this case, however, it is most certain that his 
vow could not have been what, at first view, it 
now appears to us. The last words of it in the 
Hebrew, will fairly admit of this rendering, " shall 
surely be consecrated to the Lord, or I will offer 
it a burnt-offering," The Jewish law permitted 
the dedication to God of persons, as well as of 
cattle, of houses, possessions, indeed of any kind 
of property, and it prescribed the ceremonies to be 
observed in their consecration. The service, use, 
or profit resulting from whatever was thus conse- 
crated, was afterward devoted to the support of 
religion or of its ministers. Jephthah, no doubt, had 
around his house a large farm, plentifully stocked 
with the various species of domestic animals, 
which were daily driven from one part of his 
grounds to another. In making his vow, may we 
not suppose him to have imagined that on his 



440 jephthah's vow. 

return, he might meet his drove of cattle, his flock 
of sheep, or his herd of goats ; and that in this 
case his purpose was, that a hecatomb of these 
animals should form his grateful oblation to God ? 
Contrary to his expectations, however, instead of 
them, he met a troop of damsels with his own 
daughter at their head. He had no right to dis- 
pose of her companions, but it instantly occurred 
to his thoughts, that the performance of his vow 
required the giving of her, not to a husband, but 
to God, — to spend her days in his service, separate 
from family cares, and exempt from the duties of 
a wife and mother, in making and adorning the 
vestments of the priests, or the hangings of the 
tabernacle, or in some other occupation connected 
with the service and rites of religion. This 
incident, therefore, as it dashed his hope of poster- 
ity, of any heirs to his possessions and honours, 
occasioned that disturbance of mind which he ex- 
pressed by rending his clothes. 

In strict conformity with this idea, is the lan- 
guage of the damsel herself upon her being made 
acquainted with the vow. She answered at once, 
" My father, if thou hast opened thy mouth unto 
the Lord, do to me according to that which hath 
proceeded out of thy mouth." After a pause, 
however, she adds, " Let this thing be done for 
me," or grant me this request, u Let me alone two 
months, that I may go up and down upon the 



jephthah's vow. 441 

mountains, and bewail my virginity, I and my 
fellows." Is it conceivable that such cool, dispas- 
sionate language could have proceeded from her 
lips, had she entertained the idea, that she was to 
be butchered like a beast, and laid upon the flam- 
ing altar ? Was there ever a human being, who 
would not have been shocked beyond measure at 
such a prospect ? Can we imagine a tender, del- 
icate virgin, in all the bloom and joy of youth, 
on her being apprized of such a destiny, expressing 
no horror, showing no emotion of fear, no aversion, 
and regretting no other privation but that of wed- 
lock ? Was the loss of life nothing, that she wish- 
ed to lament her virginity only ? Being two 
months at liberty to go where she pleased, if at 
the expiration of that term she knew that she was 
to bleed upon the altar, having the tragical scene 
constantly in her thoughts, as the fatal day drew 
nearer and nearer, would she not have been tempted 
to make her escape ? Would not her companions 
have advised and assisted her flight ? She returned 
at the set time to her father, " who did with her 
according to his vow ;" but if this had consisted 
in laying her a victim upon the altar, after thus 
relating her death, would the historian have grave- 
ly added the following words, " And she knew no 
man" ? Is it not manifest that in this clause is 
expressed the meaning of the vow, and that it had 
its fulfilment in her continuing to the end of her 
56 



442 

days in a state of celibacy, devoted to the service 
of religion, and secluded from the common cares 
and enjoyments of the world ? 

The remainder of the chapter is thus translated 
by Houbigant : " And it continued a custom in 
Israel for the virgins of Israel to go to the daughter 
of Jephthah, the Gileadite, to comfort her four days 
in a year." No custom of celebrating the dead after 
the funereal obsequies were performed, ever pre- 
vailed among the Jews. By representing them as 
unclean, and pronouncing every person defiled 
who approached or touched a corpse, the Mosaic 
law inspired the Jews with a kind of horror for 
the dead. Of course, it could not have been a 
custom with their daughters to make annual visits 
to the grave of Jephthah' s daughter, or lamentations 
over her. We are constrained therefore to under- 
stand these visits as made to her while she was 
yet living in a state of retirement and seclusion 
from the world. 

In opposition to this, a learned divine has 
urged, that " the Scripture no where attaches any 
peculiar holiness to virginity or a life of celibacy ; 
but, on the contrary, predicts that this would be one 
of the corruptions in those Matter days,' when 
men should depart from the faith, and give heed to 
seducing spirits and doctrines of devils." I an- 
swer, that though this be in general true, it is not 
in its full extent, or without exception. The 



jephthah's vow. 443 

Scripture indeed has not enjoined celibacy on any ; 
yet St. Paul says, " The unmarried woman car- 
eth for the things of the Lord, that she may be 
holy both in body and in spirit ; but she that is 
married, careth for the things of the world, how 
she may please her husband." Our Saviour also 
says, that " as many as are able to receive this 
doctrine, let them receive it ;" and adds, that some 
had actually chosen this mode of life, " for the 
kingdom of heaven's sake." We have also an 
instance of it in Anna, the prophetess, of whom it 
is said, that, through the course of many years, 
to an extreme old age, " She departed not from the 
temple, but served God with fastings and prayers 
night and day." The early piety of Jephthah's 
daughter, seems to have predisposed and fitted 
her for such a kind of life, which, in some instan- 
ces, has undoubtedly occurred through every age 
of the church and world, under the Law, as well 
as under the Gospel. 

After all, as Jephthah found reason afterward 
to be sorry for his vow, his example should teach 
us all to be cautious how we entangle our con- 
sciences by hasty resolutions, or rash promises, — 
bringing ourselves under any obligations which 
were not before binding upon us. The Scripture 
says, "Be not rash with thy mouth, and let not 
thine heart be hasty to utter any thing before God ; 
for God is in heaven, and thou upon earth ; there- 
fore let thy words be few." 



THE WITCH OF ENDOR 



1 SAMUEL XXVIII. 

The late death of Samuel, and the disgrace 
and flight of David, might possibly have encour- 
aged the Philistines to a renewal of the war against 
the Israelites. Some have supposed, that about 
this time their forces had been increased by vast 
numbers of men driven by Amasis out of Egypt. 
Their army upon this occasion, seems to have 
been more numerous and powerful than usual. 
Achish, upon whom the chief command appears 
to have devolved, having full confidence in the 
merits and fidelity of David, his lately received 
guest, proposes that he and his men should join the 
camp. To this proposal, the answer of David is 
evidently ambiguous : " Surely thou shalt know 
what thy servant can do." It is however under- 
stood by Achish in the affirmative ; and on this 
ground the Philistine prince replies, " Therefore 
will I make thee keeper of mine head forever,' 2 
that is, in the military style, captain of his life- 
guard. But can we suppose that David ever 
in earnest entertained the thought of fighting 



THE WITCH OF ENDOR. 445 

against his country ? The Roman orator tells us, 
that " the connexion created between men, by 
benefits mutually conferred and received, is very 
great ; but that of all our connexions, there is none 
more important, none dearer than that which 
every one has with his country. Our parents are 
dear, our children, our kindred, our friends, are 
dear ; but our country alone comprehends all these 
charities for the benefit of which, what good man 
would hesitate to die ? Hence, nothing can be 
more detestable, than the inhumanity of those, who 
tear their country in pieces, and are employing 
their endeavours for its destruction." Can we 
then suppose the Hebrew hero capable of a crime 
so censured and reprobated by Pagans. Undoubt- 
edly David found himself greatly perplexed by 
the situation into which he had been thrown. To 
join the Philistines, in fighting against the people 
over whom he knew God had destined him soon 
to reign, would apparently cut him off from all 
right and hope of succeeding to the crown. On 
the other part, to desert or betray the prince under 
whose protection his life had been secured, was 
inconsistent with the principles of honour and 
honesty. In this strait, his prudence appears in 
the ambiguity of his answer to Achish. Perhaps 
it was under a divine impulse that he made this 
answer. Providence rendering it effectual for his 
extrication from present difficulties, and so guiding 



446 THE WITCH OF ENDOR. 

the subsequent events, as to free him from all fu- 
ture embarrassment. 

When the two hostile armies had taken the 
field, and Saul had reconnoitred that of his ene- 
mies, he found it so very formidable, that he lost 
all his former courage, and his heart trembled at 
the apprehended consequences of a battle. In this 
distress, he earnestly wished for supernatural 
advice how to conduct. But the historian observes 
that, when " he inquired of the Lord, the Lord 
answered him not, neither by dreams, nor by 
Urim, nor by prophets." These words lead us 
to suppose that he did at first seek counsel of God, 
though without success ; yet we read in 1 Chron- 
icles x. 14, that " he inquired not of the Lord." 
Perhaps the two passages cannot be better recon- 
ciled, than by saying, as some have done, that 
" inasmuch as he did not persevere to inquire of 
God, nor inquire at all with a truly religious and 
faithful spirit ;" but in his impatience became 
desperate, having recourse to infernal agents, " it 
was just the same as if he had not inquired at all." 
" He whose heart is perfect with God," says a 
learned Jew, " lifts up his eyes to him, and fixes 
them on him, hoping in him, though he do not 
presently hear or grant his request ; and perseveres 
in his hopes, settling a resolution to wait upon 
him. But so did not Saul, who was remiss and 
negligent, saying, in the pride of his heart, If the 



THE WITCH OF ENDOR. 447 

Lord will not answer me, I will consult a familiar 
spirit." 

Concerning what is related of his adventure 
with the witch of Endor, various opinions have 
been entertained. The plain, simple narration 
leads careless, inattentive readers to suppose that 
this woman, through the aid of evil spirits, actual- 
ly called up the ghost of Samuel upon this occa- 
sion ; while more thoughtful, judicious minds 
deem it utterly incredible that any combination 
of human art with infernal powers, should be equal 
to such an effect. In their opinion, none but the 
great Father of spirits — that infinite Being who 
holds the keys of death and the grave, who is 
Lord both of the visible and invisible world, can 
cause any of the dead actually to appear and hold 
converse with the living. His power alone can 
perform such a prodigy. This seems to be ad- 
mitted by the pious Henry, while he, notwithstand- 
ing, thinks that the fallen angels might attend upon 
the call of a sorceress. He therefore takes it for 
granted, that an evil demon, raised by the arts of 
witchcraft, assumed the shape of Samuel, and, 
personating the prophet, answered the inquiries 
of Saul. Upon this hypothesis he founds his 
remarks and illustrations, and observes, that the 
profound silence of Scripture with respect to the 
manner of operation in effecting this, should teach 
us " not to covet to know these depths of Satan, 



448 THE WITCH OF ENDOR. 

or the solution of such mysteries of iniquity." 
In modern times, however, the efficacy of such 
arts, any farther than as they consisted in mere 
illusion, and in deceiving the credulous and un- 
wary, has been justly called in question. They 
were never credited but in the dark ages of pagan 
ignorance, or of christian superstition. They were 
founded in popular prejudice, ignorance, and error. 
In proportion as learning and knowledge have 
been diffused, they have become impotent, and 
sunk into disrepute. Spectres and apparitions 
have uniformly and almost universally vanished, 
where men have become enlightened. The evo- 
cations of the dead, and intercourse with demons 
and spirits, mentioned in pagan poetry, are now 
believed to have been nothing more than the arti- 
fices of impostors. Apparitions, when real, are 
acknowledged to be miracles ; and to God only 
belongs the power of working miracles. It is 
inconsistent with all our ideas of the wisdom and 
perfection of his government, to suppose that this 
power may be lodged in the hands of any finite 
agents, or can ever be exerted but by a divine 
commission. The contrary supposition would 
render questionable all the miracles by which 
divine revelation is established, and leave us des- 
titute of any certain proofs upon which to found 
our faith. 



THE WITCH OF END0R. 449 

Later commentators, therefore, such as Mr. Or- 
ton and many others, consider the apparition of 
Samuel to Saul as a real miracle, produced, not 
by the arts of sorcery, but by the finger of God. 
As this seems to have been the opinion of the Son 
of Sirach in the Ecclesiasticus, of Josephus, of 
the Jewish Rabbis, and of several of the ancient 
Fathers of the christian church ; modern expositors 
have supposed, that as God overruled Balaam 
when seeking for enchantments, and compelled 
him to utter a true prophecy — as he sent a message 
of death to Ahaziah at the time when that prince 
was sending to inquire of Baal-zebub, the god of 
Ekron ; so at the instant when Saul was seek- 
ing to a witch, the true Samuel was made 
to appear for his greater terror and punishment, 
by confirming the immediate execution of the 
sentence before passed upon him. It might be 
acknowledged, however, that this opinion, after 
all the plausible things which can be urged in its 
favour, is evidently incumbered with insuperable 
difficulties. After God had refused to answer an 
impious prince in any of the ways prescribed by 
his own institutions, is it conceivable that he should 
send the spirit of an eminent prophet from the 
abodes of bliss, to meet this abandoned sinner at 
midnight in the den of a sorceress, to deliver in 
his name, from that workshop of impiety, oracular 
responses ; and after performing his errand, un- 
57 



450 THE WITCH OF ENDOR, 

clothe him again, that he might return to his rest ? 
Can such an interposition be deemed worthy of 
the Supreme Being ? Is not the supposition con- 
trary to all our ideas of the divine purity, dignity, 
and sanctity ? From such a dispensation might not 
the Israelites naturally infer, that, though they 
ought not to have recourse to those who deal in 
necromancy till all the methods of inquiry appointed 
by their law had been tried without effect ; yet, 
in the last resort, they might chance to succeed, 
as Saul did ? Upon the generally received inter- 
pretation, I see not how this consequence can be 
avoided, a consequence evidently dishonorary to 
God, contradictory to his perfections, and appar- 
ently countenancing wicked arts and practices. 
I therefore ask your attention to the history 
itself, that we may see whether, upon a critical 
examination, it states any facts or circumstances 
which may not easily and naturally be resolved 
into the arts and management of imposture. 
Saul's application was to " a woman that hath a 
familiar spirit." The Hebrew words, literally 
rendered, are " the mistress," or u she that hath 
power of the bottle, or belly." Impostors of this 
description were so called on account of their 
bodies being swollen or distended, as they feigned, 
by a divine energy or spirit possessing them at the 
time when they uttered their oracles. By the 
Greeks they were called ventriloquists, persons 



THE WITCH OF ENDOR. 451 

who spoke in, or by the belly. Accordingly, 
Josephus thus explains the order of Saul : " That 
they should seek out for him one of those women 
that could speak out of their bellies, and call forth 
the souls of the dead ; that by this means he 
might know if his affairs should succeed. For 
this sort of belly-speakers can bring up the souls 
of the dead, and by their help can foretel futurities. ' ? 
The meaning of Josephus is, that these are the 
things to which they pretended, and they support- 
ed such pretences by so altering the natural tone of 
their voice, that though they really spake them- 
selves, they could impose on those who consulted 
them, and make them believe that their answers 
were received from the spirit that had been conjured 
up. This they confirmed by so managing their 
voice, as to cause it to be heard in any direction or 
from whatever quarter they pleased ; " either above 
them or below them, or on either side of them ; 
down a chimney, or through a wall, as should best 
suit their imposture, and most effectually deceive 
those who applied to them." This art of ventrilo- 
quism, instances of which, have occurred in modern 
times, was probably the main ground on which 
the witches and wizards of old founded their 
claim to a power of conversing with demons and 
with the spirits of the dead, and of learning from 
them the knowledge of future events. 



452 THE WITCH OF ENDOR. 

In his better days, Saul had cleared the land 
of these impostors, by putting the law of God in 
execution against them. But as he had never 
acted from a principle of sincere respect to Jeho- 
vah, and in many instances had wilfully and most 
presumptuously offended him, — he seems at last to 
have filled up the measure of his iniquities, by 
falling himself into those vile practices which he 
had so severely punished in others. For years 
past he had been far from having a sound mind ; 
and, at this juncture, his panic at the sight of the 
Philistine army, had nearly deprived him of the 
small remains of reason. He appears, however, 
not to have been so lost, as to be unconscious of 
the disgrace he might bring upon himself, if it 
should be publicly known that he had applied to 
a sorceress. He therefore observed as much 
secresy as possible on the occasion ; and having 
disguised himself, went by night, and with only 
two attendants. Her residence was probably at 
no great distance from the camp. How he dis- 
posed of his two servants at the door of her dwell- 
ing, we are not told ; but there is no hint or inti- 
mation that they were witnesses to what passed 
between him and her, or between him and the 
pretended Samuel. A present in the first instance 
probably introduced him and his business, and 
rendered her propitious to his wishes. His request 
is, " Divine unto me by the familiar spirit, and 



THE WITCH OF ENDOR 



453 



bring me him up whom I shall name unto thee." 
In so saying, Saul implicitly acknowledges all the 
supernatural powers and prerogatives to which 
any witch or wizard ever pretended. " Bring 
me him up whom I shall name unto thee," wherever 
he may be, whether in heaven or in hell, above or 
under the earth, or in any of the regions of space ; 
they must all go and come at thy command, and 
give forth their oracles to those, who, through thee, 
consult them. This is the obvious import of his 
request. 

But could the king of Israel, after having been 
trained up in the knowledge of the true religion, 
be so senseless, as to believe that the spirits of 
just men made perfect, the souls of prophets and 
saints, after entering into the heavenly rest, should 
be subject to the control of conjurors ; and forced 
by the impious arts of sorcery and enchantment, 
against their wills, to make a mysterious midnight 
appearance, and give forth moonshine oracles to 
wicked men, forsaken of God and given over to 
the consequences of their own impieties and follies ? 
Is it not yet more astonishing, that any christian 
divines should have believed this, and put such a 
construction upon this passage of sacred history ? 

Extraordinary and prodigious as were Saul's 
expectations from the woman, she makes no objec- 
tion to them as things beyond the reach of her art. 
She implicitly admits tier ability to satisfy his 



454 



THE WITCH OF ENDOR. 



inquiries. The only preliminary question to be 
settled between them, concerns her own personal 
safety ; and she makes this cautious reply : " Be- 
hold, thou knowest what Saul hath done, how he 
hath cut off those that have familiar spirits, arnd 
the wizards, out of the land : wherefore, then, 
layest thou a snare for my life, to cause me to 
die?" By the living God, Saul swears, that no 
punishment should befall her in consequence of 
her compliance. This difficulty being removed, 
she applies herself to her business, and desires him 
to name the dead person whom he wished to con- 
sult. On his mentioning Samuel, she seems to 
to have withdrawn some little distance from him, 
probably into a subterraneous cell, from which, in 
a short time, she gives a shriek, as if in an agony, 
loudly exclaiming, " Why hast thou deceived me ? 
for thou art Saul." From these words it is evident 
that her pretended fright is occasioned, not by a 
vision of the real Samuel, or any other unexpected 
apparition ; but by the information received from 
her ghost, that the person now consulting her, was 
the king himself, who had put to death so many 
of her profession. The truth is, that, from the 
beginning, she well knew Saul, notwithstanding 
the disguise which he had assumed. As he was 
a head taller than any other man in Israel, he was 
always known at first sight, even by those who 
had never seen him before. This woman must 



THE WITCH OF EJNDOK, 455 

also have known him from the promise of impuni- 
ty which he had given her ; as none but her sove- 
reign could have made such a promise. Her 
object, therefore, in the management now stated, 
was to excite his admiration of her art, and 
procure credit to what was to follow, by making 
Saul first believe, that, in a way supernatural, 
she had discovered who he was. In this she 
succeeded. Saul was satisfied that some ghost 
had betrayed him to her, and given her the infor- 
mation of his person ; and, desiring her not to be 
frighted, as he would be faithful to his oath just 
pledged, he wishes to know what apparition had 
spoken to her, or " what she had seen." Her 
answer is, "I 3aw gods ascending out of the 
earth." This is precisely in the style of pagan 
witches, who£e pretended power was chiefly ex- 
ercised over the infernal deities, and in bringing 
forth the ghosts from the lowest sepulchres. By 
this time Saul's imagination is filled with the 
idea of Samuel's appearance ; and though the 
woman spoke of a plurality, he understands her 
as meaning one principal personage, accompanied, 
perhaps, with his usual attendants ; he therefore 
asks, "What form is he of?" She answers, 
" An old man cometh up ; and he is covered with 
a mantle." As this description exactly suited the 
well known habit of the Prophet, Saul, from this 
account of the witch, without any other evidence 



456 1HE WITCH OF ENDOR. 

(for it is not once intimated that he saw the 
apparition with his own eyes), " perceived that it 
was Samuel;" that is, this was the conclusion, 
or the belief which took place in his mind. Un- 
der this persuasion, he instantly prostrated himself 
on the ground before the pretended phantom. 

At this stage of the process, the woman dis- 
appears in her own person; and through the 
remainder of the scene, by her art of ventriloquism, 
supports the character of Samuel, whom she had 
made Saul to believe to be now present, come up 
out of the ground. But before she could venture 
to make her ghost utter oracles, it was necessary 
to draw out of Saul the object of his inquiry. 
Accordingly she puts this interrogatory into the 
mouth of her pretended Samuel : " Why hast 
thou disquieted me, to bring me up ?" Are not 
these words precisely in the style of pagan witch- 
craft ? Do they not explicitly recognise its pow- 
ers to evoke the dead ? Had the true Samuel 
been present, sent by God, as so many learned 
commentators have taught ; would he have thus 
attributed his coming to Saul, or to the witch, at 
Saul's instigation ? Would he have thus com- 
plained of the disturbance given him, or of the 
force put upon his inclinations ? For the words, 
" disquieted me," in the original Hebrew, signify, 
" moved and disturbed by violence," and are sim- 
ilar to the boast of the Thessalian witch in Lu- 



THE WITCH OF ENDOR. 457 

can's Pharsalia, that she could in actus invitos 
prcebere deos, — " constrain the unwilling gods." 
Would the true Samuel, sent by God, have ap- 
peared ignorant of the purpose of his mission, and 
humbly asked of Saul, why he had been sent for ? 
On the contrary, would he not have opened upon 
the delinquent with a sharp rebuke of his recourse 
to a witch, and at once thundered in his ears the 
impending judgments of Heaven ? But the artful 
woman assumes no more of the character of Sam- 
uel, than might be consistent with the reputation 
of her profession ; and suffers not a word to escape 
him tending to its disparagement — no rebuke upon 
herself, nor upon Saul for applying to her. 

The pretended Samuel having put Saul upon 
stating his case, it is thus described : "I am sore 
distressed, for the Philistines make war against 
me, and God is departed from me, ana answereth 
me no more, neither by prophets, nor by dreams ; 
therefore I have called thee, that thou mayest 
make known unto me what I shall do." This 
information was amply sufficient to serve as a 
clue in directing the woman what response should 
be given by her feigned Samuel. Nothing could 
be more obvious and natural, than this reply : 
" Wherefore, then, dost thou ask of me, seeing 
the Lord is departed from thee, and is become 
thine enemy ?" What follows in the two next 
verses, is but a repetition of the things which all 
58 



458 THE WITCH OF END0R. 

Israel knew Samuel had long since said to Saul : 
" And the Lord hath done to thee, as he spake 
by me ; for the Lord hath rent the kingdom out 
of thine hand, and given it to thy neighbour, even to 
David : because thou obeyedst not the voice of the 
Lord, nor executedst his fierce wrath upon Amalek, 
therefore the Lord hath done this thing unto thee 
this day." The witch knew that she was upon 
safe ground, while she thus confined her ghost to 
the very words before spoken by the Prophet. 

The remainder of the response has, indeed, the 
air of prophecy ; but was, in fact, conjecture 
founded upon the highest probability. She knew 
that David, with his brave band of heroes, by 
whose aid Saul's former victories had been gener- 
ally obtained, was now in the camp of the Philis- 
tines ; — that their army, in other respects, was 
more numerous and powerful than it had ever 
been before ; while that of the Israelites was 
disheartened and in a state of dismay, partaking 
in the terrors of their king and commander. 
From these circumstances, she was led to conclude 
that the time was at hand when God would fulfil to 
David his promise of giving him the kingdom. In 
order to his accession to it, the death of Saul and 
his sons seemed necessary. She had heard Saul 
confessing that God had forsaken him. In this 
case, she well knew that his defeat and destruction 
were inevitable. These considerations might in- 



THE WITCH OF ENDOR. 459 

spire her with the confidence to make her pretend- 
ed Samuel add, " Moreover, the Lord will also 
deliver Israel, with thee, into the hand of the 
Philistines ,* and to-morrow shalt thou and thy 
sons be with me." Undoubtedly the death of him 
and his sons was the more willingly foretold, on 
account of his former persecution of the witches. 
The Hebrew word rendered, to-morrow, is indefi- 
nite and ambiguous ; as it may mean the next 
day, or some future time. It is elsewhere rendered, 
" in time to come." Had Saul survived the 
approaching battle, this latitude with respect to 
the predicted time of his death, would have ad- 
mitted of an interpretation consistent with the 
truth of the oracle. 

Josephus praises the humanity of this woman, 
for her attention to Saul after he had swooned 
away at the hearing of her predictions. But it 
is observable, that what she now says by way of 
consoling the king under his trouble, is utterly 
inconsistent with every idea of Samuel's appear- 
ance having been by virtue of a divine mission ; 
for she evidently and explicitly claims it to herself 
and her art. " Behold, thine handmaid hath 
obeyed thy voice, and I have put my life in my 
hand, and have hearkened unto thy words which 
thou spakest unto me" — that is, at the risk of my 
life, I have divined, and brought up Samuel, in 
compliance with thy request : " now, therefore. 



460 



THE WITCH OF ENDOR. 



I pray thee, hearken thou also unto the voice of thy 
handmaid." Had the sorceress been conscious 
that she had not put her arts in operation at all, 
and that the appearance of Samuel had been 
unexpected, and independent of her and her ma- 
chinery,— after the whole was over, would she 
have dared thus to assume it to herself, and tell 
Saul to his face, that she had made Samuel appear, 
and had hazarded her life by thus obeying him ? 
To me, this is a conclusive proof, inserted by the 
sacred writer on purpose to let us know that the 
whole narration upon this subject, contains nothing 
more than the fraudulent practices of a pretended 
witch, imposing upon a panic-stricken, half fam- 
ished, credulous, and infatuated prince. 

Our subject affords us demonstrative evidence 
that in the age of Saul, the immortality of the 
soul, or its continued existence after its separation 
from the body, was the generally received and 
popular belief of men. On it were founded all 
the arts of necromancy. The Gospel, however, 
has brought us more decisive proofs of this most 
interesting truth, and placed it beyond all reason- 
able doubt. Having obtained such assurance of 
the duration which awaits us hereafter, we shall 
be found without excuse, if the whole plan and 
conduct of our lives be not influenced and regulat- 
ed by this belief. 



PATRIOTISM. 



PSALM CXXII. 



This psalm is supposed to have been compos- 
ed by David after he had settled the ark on mount 
Zion, and made Jerusalem the capital of his king- 
dom and the place for celebrating the public solem- 
nities of the national religion. On his first acces- 
sion to the throne, Jerusalem was in the possession 
of the Jebusites. From them he wrested it in the 
early part of his reign, and during the succeed- 
ing years of his increasing prosperity and great- 
ness, it was exceedingly strengthened, adorned, 
and beautified. Within its walls was the fixed 
residence of the ark, and thither came up all the 
tribes three times a year, to attend the three 
grand festivals of their religion. There, too, were 
erected the tribunals of public justice, and thence 
proceeded the whole administration of the govern- 
ment. On seeing the people flocking from all 
quarters to this city of their public solemnities, 
Dr. Chandler supposes that David composed the 
excellent ode before us, " to express his satisfaction 
on so joyful an occasion, and the pleasing prospect 
he had of the city's prosperity and the future hap- 
piness of the people." 



462 PATRIOTISM. 

In the first verse, the psalmist expresses the 
pleasure with which he witnessed the general 
unanimity of the people, in assembling at the ap- 
pointed season in this city for the worship of their 
God. " I was glad when they said unto me, Let 
us go into the house of the Lord." It rejoiced my 
heart when I perceived this to be the general voice 
of the people, and that public opinion thus exhorted 
and quickened individuals to the common duty, — 
censuring and condemning that listlessness and in- 
dolence through which any are inclined to excuse 
their omissions. The subsequent verses depict the 
admiration, joy, and devotion of the people them- 
selves on their first entering the city and beholding 
at once its glory and grandeur. a They are rep- 
resented as crying out with triumph, in the height of 
their surprise and joy, when from the gate they be- 
hold the buildings which present themselves to their 
view ; ' Jerusalem is built ! It is a city compact 
within itself, stately, beautiful, and regular !' The 
description places us, as it were, under the very 
gate, and the houses and palaces rise almost con- 
spicuous to our view. What added to their joy, 
when they beheld the city, was the presence of 
the ark in it, the courts of judicature, and the 
several other circumstances mentioned in the 
psalm." Jerusalem, the great seat and centre of 
religion and justice, was the centre of union to all 
the tribes ; the palace, the centre of the city ; and 



PATRIOTISM. 463 

the tabernacle, of the palace. " Blessed and hap- 
py," says Dr. Delaney, " is that nation whose 
prince is the centre of union to his people ; and 
God, that is, true religion, the common centre and 
cement both of people and prince." 

In the sixth and seventh verses we have a 
sudden, but natural and affecting transition from ad- 
miration to devotion, — breathing out ardent prayers 
for the peace and prosperity of a city, which so 
many considerations united to endear to its inhabi- 
tants, and render them solicitous for its safety : 
" Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. They shall 
prosper that love thee. Peace be within thy 
walls, and prosperity within thy palaces." It 
has been remarked that the original word here ren- 
dered, peace, " signifies pure, unmixed prosperity ; 
undisturbed, and free from the corruption of any 
calamities." The ode then closes with a solemn 
assurance from the author to his people, whom he 
styles his " brethren and friends," that for their 
sakes, and the high reverence he bare to the house 
of God, he would himself both pray for the pros- 
perity, and in the whole of his government, en- 
deavour to secure the tranquillity and welfare of the 
city : " For my brethren and companions' sakes, 
I will now say, Peace be within thee !" 

Whoever might have been the real author of 
this ode, it was undoubtedly composed for the use 
of the public assemblies of Israel when convened 






464 PATRIOTISM. 

in the place where God had recorded his name. 
In singing it, while they manifested their reverence 
for the institutions of religion, they cherished the 
love of their country and the social virtues in gen- 
eral. 

From this psalm, rightly understood, we may 
learn two practical lessons, — the one, relating to 
our duty as men and citizens ; and the other to 
our obligations as Christians, favoured with the 
knowledge and privileges of the true religion. The 
first has the name of patriotism, the love of our 
country, of the civil community of which we are 
born members. I know not whether there be in 
the whole Bible another passage where this virtue, 
in its true and genuine nature, is more clearly and 
strongly inculcated. The whole composition 
breathes the public spirit of its author, and shows 
how dear to his heart were the interest, peace, and 
prosperity of his native soil. To enjoy these in 
common with his brethren and fellow-citizens, 
was what he desired above all other worldly objects, 
and for which he daily prayed to God and exhort- 
ed all about him to pray. Such were his patriotic 
feelings, originating In one of the constituent 
principles in the human constitution. Self-preserv- 
ation is the first and great law of our nature. 
The principle of self-love implanted in our bosoms 
prompts every man to obey this law in seeking his 
own safety and happiness. But he finds his per- 



PATRIOTISM. 465 

sonal happiness inseparably connected with that of 
his family, relations, friends, neighbours, in short, 
of the whole community subsisting under the same 
social compact, governed by the same laws and mag- 
istrates, whose several parts are variously connect- 
ed one with another, and all united upon the basis 
of a common interest. The love of one's country, 
therefore, is the natural expansion of self love — 
a necessary consequence of the wise and rational 
love which a man owes to himself ; since his own 
happiness is connected with that of his country. 
This love of our country is natural to all men. 
They feel an attachment to the soil, the climate, 
the spot of earth where they had their nativity, and 
to all the objects around it ; and these natural 
ideas are associated with those moral conceptions 
which are derived from parents, kindred, and fellow- 
citizens, and the whole tends to give the utmost 
strength to that affection which we call the love of 
our country. Hence patriotism has, in all ages and 
by all nations, been deemed one of the noblest 
passions that can warm and animate the breast of 
man. Those individuals, therefore, who are desti- 
tute of this affection, who are capable of preferring 
foreigners to their own people, and the interests of 
a foreign government and community to those of 
their own, must be deemed insensible to the feel- 
ings of nature ; a degenerate offspring ; rebels at 
59 



466' PATRIOTISM. 

once against the dictates of reason and the precepts 
of religion. 

Such moral inconsistencies, however, sometimes 
appear. They are among the baneful effects of 
human depravity. In consequence of the corrupt 
prejudices, with which sin has filled the human 
heart, men frequently mistake their own happiness, 
embrace evil under the delusive appearance of good, 
love darkness rather than light, and choose that 
which virtually tends to their own ruin. Our liable- 
ness to such self-deception and self-destruction, 
is the ground on which we are directed to seek 
the guidance of Him who made us, and his influ- 
ence on our judgment, will, and affections. In 
praying to him for the peace and prosperity of 
our Jerusalem, that is, of our country, or of the 
community of which we are members, — we ac- 
knowledge our hearts and ways, our counsels and 
pursuits, to be in his hand, to be turned and chang- 
ed at his pleasure ; that he has an efficacious super- 
intendency over all our affairs ; is the source of all 
wisdom and might ; through whose providence 
nations are prospered and increased, or wasted and 
destroyed ; and that the destinies of all men, as 
societies and individuals, as public and as private 
characters, depend upon his giving or withholding 
that wisdom which is from above. To him there- 
fore we should pray, that we and all our brethren 
of the community may be impressed with the true 



PATRIOTISM. 467 

love of our country ; may duly appreciate its priv- 
ileges, civil and religious ; and that these may be 
handed down through successive ages in the line 
of our descendants, by their continuing to practise 
that righteousness which exalteth a nation. 

But besides this literal and civil import of the 
psalm, it is to be understood as having a spiritual 
and prophetic meaning. Israel according to the 
flesh, David their king, Canaan their country, 
and Jerusalem their royal capital city, were typical 
of the church of God, comprising all true believers 
or good men, from all quarters of the world through 
its whole duration ; headed by the Messiah, the 
son of David, their appointed king forever ; — the 
heavenly Canaan being their promised possession, — 
and the Jerusalem that is above, their capital royal 
city ; whose foundation, builder, and maker is God ; 
to which all the believing tribes are going up, and 
into which the whole general assembly will be 
collected, ail and each of them transformed into a 
moral resemblance of their king, with whom they 
will be glorified forever. Were not these things 
the ultimate allusion of the psalm, we might doubt 
whether it were written under the influence of in- 
spiration. Its dignity, as the word of God, consists 
in its carrying our thoughts forward to eternity and 
upward to heaven. 

My brethren, if we be regular attendants on 
the ordinances of God's house and worship ; if we 



468 PATRIOTISM. 

be conscious of pleasure and satisfaction, of joy 
and gladness resulting from such services, is it not 
because we view them as so many pledges of our 
future entrance into that house of God, which is not 
made with hands, eternal in the heavens ? Are we 
not encouraged to endure the trials of our christian 
course, and quickened and animated in performing 
its duties, by the hope set before us, that our feet 
shall one day stand within the gates of the heavenly 
Jerusalem? O thou city of our God, builded and 
compact together, what glorious things have we 
heard spoken of thee ! Thy gates are of pearl ; 
thy streets of gold ; the Lord God and the Lamb 
are thy temple in the midst of thee ; their glory i 
thy light ; thy people are the nations of the redeem- 
ed, washed and sanctified, and now clothed in 
white, with palms in their hands. They are all 
perfect before God, both in holiness and in happi- 
ness ; their employment, — thanksgiving and praise ; 
in their music they unite the song of Moses and the 
Lamb, and chant hallelujahs without end. Much 
more is reported of thy glory and felicity; but 
when our eyes shall see thee, we shall be forced to 
exclaim with the Queen of the south, " The half 
was not told us !" " They shall prosper that love 
thee." Many of thy future citizens are still in 
this vale of tears, and though their faces are toward 
thee, yet during their pilgrimage here below, through 
this dreary wilderness, many weary steps await 



PATRIOTISM. 469 

them. On every side they are beset with difficult- 
ies, snares, and dangers. O thou divine Spirit of 
holiness, who didst reside without measure with 
Jesus our Saviour, descend into the bosoms of us 
who profess ourselves to be the members of his 
mystical body ; give us something of his inward 
peace and composure ; fill us with his heavenly 
temper ; enlighten our darkness ; dispel our doubts ; 
what • we know not, teach thou us ; remove our 
errors and heresies ; heal our schisms and divisions ; 
cause all our strifes and contentions to cease ; bring 
us all to speak the same thing, to be of one mind, 
and to have no other solicitude but to preserve the 
unity of the spirit in the bond of peace. Thus may 
we become prepared for admission into that city, 
whose chief characteristics are peace and holiness 
forever ! 



END. 



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